Yes, all was over between herself and Bob Nancarrow. How could it be otherwise? She had given him every chance to explain himself, and she had listened to his reasons for holding back. And such reasons! How could she, Nancy Tresize, who came from a race of fighters, accept such paltry excuses? Christianity to her meant the highest code of honour: it meant faithfulness to promise, it meant honour, it meant truth, it meant defending the weak—and in all this Bob had failed.
And yet she loved him. In her heart of hearts she did not believe he was a coward; as for meanness and dishonour, they were alien to his nature.
Of course she knew why Captain Trevanion had come, even before he had spoken. She had not been blind during the past year, and therefore, could not mistake the meaning of his attentions. She admired him too. He was just the kind of man she had always admired. He was the son of one of the oldest and most honoured families in the land; he was generous, chivalrous, brave, handsome. What more could she want? How the people cheered at the recruiting meeting! And what wonder? He had touched their hearts by his burning words, and he was just off to fight for his country.
Every selfish interest, every tradition of her family pleaded for him. She was fond of him too. She had always liked him as a friend; she had always admired him as a loyal gentleman and a soldier. Of course, he was not clever. He was no lover of books, and, compared with Bob, he was an ignoramus; but what did that matter? He was a brave man—a gentleman.
As for Bob, all their former relations were ended. He himself had closed and bolted the door between them. The choice had been between her and honour on the one hand, and selfish ease and cowardice on the other. And Bob had chosen to be a coward. What could she do, therefore, but drive him from her mind, and crush all affection for him? Was it not her duty to her father, her family, and to herself to accept Trevanion?
"You are not vexed with me, are you?" went on Trevanion, after he had waited a few seconds.
"No, not vexed."
"Then—then, can't you give me a word of hope? I—I don't even ask you to make a definite promise, although I'd give my eyes if you could; but if you could tell me that you liked no one better, and that I—I may speak again—if—if I come back, I could go away with a braver heart. I should feel all the time as if I were fighting for you. Just say something to cheer me, won't you, Nancy?"
"I'm afraid I can't," the girl's voice was hoarse as she spoke.
Evidently his words had moved her greatly.
"Why? There is no one else, is there?"