She blushed, and casting her eyes on the floor, was silent.
“So much for being poor,” said Rolfe, as a shade passed over his features, and he pressed his eyes with his hand, as if suffering with thought.
“Come, Richard,” said she, aroused by the attitude he had assumed, “please, don't do so; all may yet be well.”
“Will you marry me without their consent, at some future day?” inquired he.
“No,” said she, “I cannot do that, I should never forgive myself if I did, for they love me, and if they err, it is in doing what they think will advance my happiness.”—
“Then you will not run away with me?”
“No:—and never mention that again unless you wish me to like you less.”
“Then our dreams of happiness are over,” said Rolfe, “and this is our last meeting.”
At this speech, she turned her eyes full upon Rolfe, and gazed searchingly in his face, and when she read in his countenance that his resolution was taken, she became agitated, and said, “please don't say so; why not love me, and visit me as you have always done; I will never love another.”
“My purpose is taken,” he replied, “I shall ever love you dearly as I now do, and, should fortune smile, will at some future day return to claim you as my first, and only love. But in a day or two I shall leave for the west.”