“Well, if you like, I will take her that ring. I think that is a very generous offer on my part, for I do not like the responsibility.”
“But what is the use of taking her the ring?”
“It is something that there can be no mistake about, that is all, a speaking message from yourself. But don’t give it me if you do not like; perhaps you had rather not!”
“I don’t like parting with it at all, I confess, but I should dearly like to send her something. I suppose that you would not take a letter?”
“You would not write one, Mr. Heigham!”
“No, of course, I forget that accursed promise. Here, take the ring, and say all you can to Angela with it. You promise that you will?”
“Certainly, I promise that I will say all I can.”
“You are very good and kind. I wish to Heaven that I were going to Marlshire with you. If you only knew how I long to see her again. I think that it would break my heart if anything happened to separate us,” and his lips quivered at the thought.
Lady Bellamy turned her sombre face upon him—there was compassion in her eyes.
“If you bear Angela Caresfoot so great a love, be guided by me and shake it off, strangle it—be rid of it anyhow; for fulfilled affection of that nature would carry a larger happiness with it than is allowed in a world planned expressly to secure the greatest misery of the greatest number. There is a fate which fights against it; its ministers are human folly and passion. You have seen many marriages, tell me, how many have you known, out of a novel, where the people married their true loves? In novels they always do, it is another of society’s pleasant fictions, but real life is like a novel without the third volume. I do not want to alarm you, Mr. Heigham; but, because I like you, I ask you to steel your mind to disappointment, so that, if a blow comes, it may not crush you.”