Bythewood made a motion to the sergeant, who removed his men farther off.
"I wish to have a few words of conversation with you, Miss Villars. I beg you to be seated here in the shade."
Virginia remained standing, regarding him with features pale and firm as when she held the axe. It was evident to her that here was another struggle before her, scarcely less to be dreaded than the first. Augustus looked at her, and smiled pallidly.
"If eyes could kill, Miss Villars, I think yours would kill me!"
"If polite cruelty can kill, YOU HAVE killed my sister!"
"O, I beg your pardon, dear Miss Villars, but it was not I!"
"I beg no pardon, but I say it WAS you! And now you will murder my father—perhaps me."
"O, my excellent young lady, how you have misunderstood me! By Heaven, I swear!"—his voice shook with sincere emotion,—"if I have committed a fault, it has been for the love of you! Such faults surely may be pardoned. Virginia! will you accept my life as an atonement for all I have done amiss? You shall bear my name, possess my wealth, and, if you do not like the cause I am engaged in, I will throw up my commission to-morrow. I will take you to France—Italy—Switzerland—wherever you wish to go. Nor do I forget your father. Whatever you ask for him shall be granted. I have money—influence—position—every thing that can make you happy."
There was a minute's pause, the intense glances of the girl piercing through and through that pale, polite mask to his soul. A selfish, chivalrous man; not a great villain, by any means; moved by a genuine, eager, unscrupulous passion for her—sincere at least in that; one who might be influenced to good, and made a most convenient and devoted husband: this she saw.
"Well, what more?"