“Then it is true, as you told father—you loved this girl?”
“Better than my life! And now—but no—you are only trying me,” he added, looking up imploringly. “Tell me she is still living?”
“Why should I lie to you? She is dead—but her blood is not on his hands. He fought to save her, but one of the men shot her, as he was bringing her here. The other—your friend, still lives, though badly wounded. Could I believe in your gratitude, I would set both yourself and him free.”
“You crush all my hopes, then taunt me with freedom—I have nothing to live for now,” bitterly replied Ned.
“Your mother?”
“True, I forgot for a moment. Well, speak plain. What pledge do you require? What do you wish me to do?” he added, wearily.
“Make me a solemn promise—pledge me your honor as a gentleman to make me your—your wife, and I will free you both.”
“What!”
“Let me finish. I know that my words seem strange, unlady-like, if you will, but consider what my past life has been. And yet, I have only obeyed my father. I have never sinned of my own free will. He thinks me all ice, but I can love, I do love; I have loved with all my soul ever since you came here. Now you know my heart. To win your love I am willing to disown father—all else.”
“I have no love to give you. It was all hers—my poor, lost Fannie’s,” muttered Ned, yet strongly affected by the passionate, yet pleading tones of the strange girl.