"Thou dost wrong me!" said the cavalier; and he took her hand tenderly, almost unresistingly, for a moment. "I would wear thee as my heart's best jewel, and inlay thee in its shrine. It is but fitting that the life thou hast preserved should be rendered unto thee."
"Nay, sir," said she, withdrawing her hand, "my pride forbids it; ay, pride! equal, if not superior to your own. I would not be the wife of a prince on these terms; nor on any other. 'Be not unequally yoked.' Will not this wholesome precept hold even in a carnal and worldly sense? I would not endure the feeling of inferiority, even from a husband. 'Twould but be servitude the more galling, because I could neither persuade myself into an equality, nor rid me of the chain."
"Thou dost reason wondrously, maiden. 'Tis an easy conquest, when neither passion nor affection oppose our judgment; when the feelings are too cold to kindle even at the spark which the Deity himself hath lighted for our solace and our blessing in this valley of tears."
"Mine!—Oh! say not they are too cold, too slow to kindle. They are too easily roused, too ardent, too soon bent before an earthly idol; but"—here she laid her hand on his arm—"but the right hand must be cut off, the right eye plucked out. I would not again be their slave, under the tyranny and dominion of these elements of our fallen nature, for all the pomps and vanities which they would purchase. There be mightier obstacles than those of expediency, as thou dost well imagine, to thy suit; but these are neither coldness nor indifference." Here her voice faltered with emotion, and her heart rose, rebelling against her own inflexible purpose, in that keen, that overwhelming anguish of the spirit. She soon regained her composure, as she uttered firmly: "They are—my altar and my faith!"
Egerton felt as though a sudden stroke had separated them for ever—as though it were the last look of some beloved thing just wrenched from his grasp. This very feeling, had none other prompted, made him more anxious for its recovery; and he would have urged his suit with all the energy of a reckless desperation, but the maiden firmly resisted.
"Urge me not again: not all the inducements I trust that even thou couldest offer would make me forget my fealty! No more—I hear thee not. The tempter I know hath too many allies within the citadel—worldly vanities and unsubdued affections—to suffer me to parley with the traitors and listen to their unholy suggestions. Again I say, I hear thee not."
Finding it was in vain, he forbore to persecute her further; and after having merely tasted of the cordial, and partaken of a slight refreshment, he listlessly inquired if the term of his imprisonment would soon expire.
"Tarry here for a season, until the heat and energy of the pursuit be overpast, or at least abated. We could not find a more fitting place of concealment."
"Being straitened for moneys until we can obtain succour from our friends, I cannot reward your hospitality as I would desire; but if we are brought forth and delivered safely from this thrall, thy father's house shall not be forgotten."
"We will not touch the least of all thy gifts," said the maiden: "forbid that we sold our succour to the distressed, though it were to the most cruel and bitter of our enemies!"