Volume Two—Chapter Nine.
An Unpleasant Position.
“It’s enough to drive a man mad,” said Chris Lisle, as he sat in his room with a book in his hand, one which he had been vainly trying to read. “To think of him having the run of the Fort, and constant opportunities of being at her side. But I will not think about it.”
He settled himself back in his chair, raised the open book once more to his eyes, uttered a mocking laugh at his own expense, and threw the volume passionately across the room, for he had realised that he had been sitting there for a full hour making pretence of reading with the book upside down.
“I could not have believed that I was such a fool,” he growled fiercely; “but always with her!” he added softly, as the wearing, tormenting thought uppermost in his brain asserted itself.
“Women are naturally weak, and it is Gartram’s wish. How could I be surprised if she yielded? No, she would not; she is too firm, and I am a contemptible brute to want faith in her.”
He felt a little better after that, roundly taking himself to task; and it was like a mental stimulus; but, like the action of most stimulants, the effect was not lasting.
“It is not as if she had confessed her love for me, and promised to be my wife some day. If she had pledged herself to me, I would not have cared, but I have nothing to hold on by; and if she obeyed her father’s wishes, what right have I to complain? Oh, it will drive me mad!” he muttered, as he leaped up and paced the room.
At that moment there was a tap at the door.