“Do not refuse me!” he said. “Do you not owe me this much at least, that I should be allowed five minutes alone with you?”
“I owe you a great deal,” she said. “You have been all that is kind, but I beg you to believe that no purpose can be served by—by what you suggest.”
They were standing in one of the rooms adjoining the ballroom, and since another set was forming there no one but themselves now remained in the smaller apartment. Mr. Taverner glanced round, and then clasping Judith’s hand, held it fast between both of his, and said: “Then let me speak now, for I can no longer be silent! Judith—dearest, sweetest cousin!—is there to be no hope for me? You do not look at me! you turn your head away! God knows I have little enough to offer you: nothing indeed but a heart that has been wholly your own from the first moment of setting eyes on you! Your circumstances and mine—alas, so widely apart!—have held me silent, but it will not do! I cannot continue so, be the event what it may! I have been forced to see others soliciting what I have not dared to ask. But it has grown to be more than a man may bear! Judith, I entreat you, look at me!”
She did contrive to raise her eyes to his face, but it was with considerable agitation that she answered: “I beg of you to say no more! Dear cousin, for your friendship I am and shall always be grateful, but if I have (unwittingly, believe me) led you to suppose that tenderer sentiments—” Her voice became totally suspended; she made a gesture, imploring him to say no more.
“How could I—how could any man—know you and not love you? I cannot offer you a title, I cannot offer you wealth—”
She recovered her voice enough to say: “ That would not weigh with me if my affections had been touched! I give you pain: forgive me! But it can never be. Let us not speak of it again!”
“Once before I asked you if there were another man. You told me ‘No’, and I believe it was true then. But now! Now could you return that answer?”
A deep flush suffused her cheeks. “You have no right to ask me such a question,” she said.
“No,” he replied, “I have no right, but this I must and will say, Judith!—No man, I care not who he may be, can feel for you what I do! While Worth continues to be your guardian I know well that you will never be permitted to marry me, but in a very little while now you will be free, and no considerations of that—”
“My refusal has nothing to do with Worth’s wishes!” she said quickly. “I should desire always to be your friend; I esteem and value you as a cousin, but I cannot love you! Do not tease me further, I beg of you! Come, may we not remain good friends?”