“I am the best judge of that,” said Chester, firmly, and he retained her hand. “Isabel, I never thought that we could ever stand in such a position as this; but now, face to face, I feel bound to say once more, forgive me, and to ask you to believe the simple truth—that I should have been doing you a greater wrong in holding to our engagement and making you my wife.”
She looked up at him firmly, and his heart throbbed with pity for her innocence and suffering, but there was no reproach in her clear, steadfast gaze. He read in it that she unquestioningly yielded to her fate; and at the end of a few moments her eyes fell towards the floor.
“You see,” whispered Marion, faintly, “it is impossible. Let me go and join them.”
“And leave me?” he whispered. “Here, water—quick! Oh, if there is an unfeeling creature upon the face of the earth, it is a woman at a time like this. Can you not see that she is fainting after the most cruel sufferings, and you all stand aside as if she were some leprous thing! Hah! Isabel!”
“Yes, Fred,” she said softly.
She went down on one knee and tenderly raised the fainting woman’s head till it rested upon her shoulder.
The touch seemed to revive Marion, and in a few moments she opened her eyes and gazed wonderingly at the face so close to hers.
“You?” she said softly.
“Yes; I. He says you are suffering and in great peril. I am alone now here in London, and if you will come with me, for his sake I will be to you as a sister till the danger, whatever it may be, has passed.”
“Ah!” sighed Marion, the spasm seeming to tear itself from her breast, and she lay still for some moments with her eyes closed.