Then it strikes her that she ought to rejoice that no farther progress should be made in the young nobleman’s suit during her father’s absence; and she feels that she has done wrong even to remain standing in that spot under the influence of a contrary expectation and of a tender though dimly significant hope.
With a sigh, the beauteous creature is about to turn away and re-enter the cottage, when,—oh! wonder and amazement!—with renewed suspense and reviving hope, she hears herself called by her name—called, too, in the tenderest, most melting tones of a woman’s voice.
“Agnes—dearest Agnes! Stay—oh! stay—if only for a few moments! Stay—I implore you—beloved girl: you know not who it is that thus addresses you!”
These words were uttered in a voice of warm and passionate affection—so that a deep and absorbing interest was at once created in the bosom of Agnes towards that lady of whose handsome countenance she had now a full view, and the earnest, appealing expression of whose features gave additional import to her enthusiastic exclamations.
“Madam—I will stay—I will not depart immediately,” faltered Agnes, forgetting her father’s injunctions relative to the caution which she was to exercise in regard to strangers: “but how do you know who I am?—and who are you?”
“Oh! that she should ask me who I am!” cried the lady, clasping her hands together in deep anguish. “But how beautiful she is!” exclaimed the stranger, in an altered and rejoicing tone: “how faithful, too, is the portrait! Agnes—dearest Agnes—I have much to say to you—much to impart that you will be delighted to learn: but must we continue to discourse thus, with this barrier between us? Can you not come to me?—or will you permit me to come to you? I long—oh! how I long to embrace you, dear girl that you are; and though we are but a few feet apart—yet does this garden-boundary separate us most cruelly!”
“Madam—I know not how to answer you,” murmured Agnes, strange feelings of mingled pleasure, apprehension, and hope agitating in her heart, as if that heart were a well of deep, inexhaustible, and yet incomprehensible emotions. “Your words seem to move me more than I can explain——”
“Yes—Agnes—dear Agnes,” ejaculated the lady, stretching out her arms in an appealing manner towards the maiden: “’tis the voice of nature that speaks within you! But you hesitate to trust yourself with me? Ah! doubtless you have been warned—doubtless you have been urged to act with caution——Oh! my God—that you should look with an eye of suspicion upon me!”
And with these words, which were uttered in a tone indicative of the most acute anguish, the lady burst into a flood of tears.