"No, Diana," answered the Earl, seating himself upon the sofa by her side, and taking her hand: "you know not by what a strange idiosyncrasy my conduct has been influenced. I entrusted you to Mr. Wentworth's care: I enjoined him to spare no money that might procure the best advice—the most efficient means of cure. Then I resigned myself to a suspense from which I might at any moment have relieved my mind by an inquiry;—but at the bottom of that suspense was a fond, a burning hope which made the feeling tolerable—nay, even vested the excitement with a peculiar charm of its own. I took it for granted that you would be cured—that your countenance would be restored to that beauty which had originally attracted me towards you;—and now, may I not say—without detriment to my own firm character as a man, and without indelicacy towards your feelings,—may I not say that I am disappointed?"
"And is this my fault?" asked Diana, in a soft plaintive tone. "Does your lordship suppose that I have not also suffered—that I do not at present suffer?"
"Oh! yes—you have—you do," answered the nobleman, pressing her hand with warm affection. "When we were happy in each other's society, Diana," he continued, "I never spoke to you of love: indeed, I experienced for you nothing more than a fervent friendship and profound admiration. But since I have ceased to see you—during the interval of our separation—I found that you were necessary to me,—that I could not be altogether happy without you,—that your conversation had charms which delighted me,—and that your attachment was something on which I could ponder with infinite pleasure. My feelings have warmed towards you; and I—I, the Earl of Warrington—experience for you a feeling which, if not so romantic and enthusiastic as my first affection, is not the less honourable and sincere."
"Ah! my lord," said Diana, in a tremulous tone, "why raise the cup of happiness to my lips, when a stern fatality must dash it so cruelly away?"
"No, Diana—it shall not be thus dashed away," answered the Earl, emphatically. "I am rich—I am my own master: not a living soul has a right to control or question my conduct. The joy which I anticipated at this meeting shall not be altogether destroyed. Here, Diana—here I offer you my hand; and on your brow—scarred, blemished by an accident though it be—that hand shall place a coronet!"
"My lord, this honour—this goodness is too much," said Diana, in a tone of deep emotion. "Remember that I am no longer possessed of those charms which once attracted you; and now that they are gone—gone for ever—I may speak of what they were without vanity! Remember, I say, that you will ever have before you a countenance seared as with a red-hot iron,—a countenance on which you will scarcely be able to look without loathing in spite of all the love which your generous heart may entertain for me! Remember that when I deck myself in the garments befitting the rank to which you seek to elevate me, that splendour would be a hideous mockery—like the fairest flowers twining round the revolting countenance of a corpse on which the hand of decay has already placed its mark! Remember, in a word, that you will be ashamed of her whom, in a moment of generous enthusiasm, you offer to reward for so much suffering—suffering which originated in no fault of yours:—remember all this, my lord—and pause—reflect—I implore you to consider well the step you are taking!"
"Diana, I am not a child that I do not know my own mind," answered the Earl: "moreover, I have the character of firmness: and I shall never repent the proposal I now make you—provided you yourself do not give me cause by your conduct."
"And on that head——"
"I have every confidence—the deepest conviction, Diana," interrupted the Earl, warmly.
"Your wishes, then, are my commands—and I obey," returned Diana, her voice thrilling with tones expressive of ineffable joy. "But shall we not ratify our engagement with one kiss?"