“I will, Felipe. Surely, you can say nothing to change it.”
“Ah, you do not know. You will hate me, scorn me, if I tell you my secret!” he murmured, despondingly.
“Felipe, can not you trust me?” asked Luisa, reproachfully.
“Yes, yes; I will—I must. It burns my heart and racks my brain until it seems as though I would go mad! But our poor mother; how will she bear it? Holy Virgin! at times I am tempted to kill myself.”
“Don’t, brother—dear Felipe; you frighten me when you look that way,” murmured Luisa, shrinking back a little.
“Frighten you, my angel? Not for worlds!” and he bent forward to bestow a kiss, when he suddenly started back. “No, no, not now. If ever my lips touch yours, the offer must first come from you, not me. It were a sin now!”
“Felipe!”
“Wait. Do not speak or look at me. If you should, my courage will fail me. Wait until I have finished my confession, and then—you shall judge me. Luisa, if you loved a man with such love as you should feel for a husband, and he should be guilty of a sin, a great crime, what would you do? Would you hate and despise him, and tell him to begone where you might never look upon his face again?”
“Not if he repented, Felipe, and acknowledged his sin of his own free will. No. If I loved a man as you say, brother—if I loved him as I do you, his fate should be mine. Where he dwelt, there would be my home; in all things we would be but one. If the world neglected or scorned him, I would try and make him forget all—all except that to me he was dearest of all. Do you understand me? I can not say what I would, but you can guess what I mean,” exclaimed Luisa, as she drew nearer to Felipe.
“No, Luisa, not yet; wait until I have told all, and then if you forgive me, put your hand in mine. But think well. If you do, it will be mine—mine forever! But now, listen.