The words startled me; they woke a chord which, do what I would, I could not lull to sleep or silence. His look and tone as he said, "if I were you, I would not trust the man who could break his word—even for my sake," told me that the sting of his broken word and tarnished honour had already entered, and would never again leave his soul. Then I saw and felt my selfishness in not redeeming his pledge, in dragging him down from that just pride which he took in his unblemished life. I saw, I felt it all, and there rose within me one of those agonizing struggles without which we should not know the power of life; which are the new and bitter birth of our being.
Kate and Cornelius O'Reilly had the deep religious feeling of their race. They made not religion the subject of frequent speech, but they bore its love in their hearts; above all, dear and sacred in their home, was held the name of their Redeemer and their God. His spirit, the spirit of self- denial and sacrifice, appeared in their lives, obscured by human weakness no doubt, but a living spirit still. How much had Kate done for her brother! How much had that brother done for me! What had I ever done for either? Nothing, nothing. And now that the hour was come, the hour of self-renonciation, I refused to bear my burden: I cast it on Cornelius. I knew how sacred he held a promise; how galling it would be for him to feel within himself the consciousness of violated truth. I knew it, and with this knowledge came the dread conviction that I was not free; that duty, honour, love, all enjoined the same fatal sacrifice.
I said nothing; but Cornelius could feel me, for I felt myself, trembling from head to foot; there were dews on my brow, and a death-like chill had seized my heart; for a moment the inward struggle, "I cannot leave him,"—"thou must," seemed like what we imagine of the spirit torn from the flesh; as bitter and as brief. I submitted silently; but Cornelius required not speech to know it. For a moment he turned pale; for a moment his lips parted, as if to detain me; but he checked the impulse, and said not a word.
I could not weep now; my grief was too bitter. I knew I was turning away from the warmth of my life, to enter a barren, sunless region; and I already felt upon me its desolateness and its gloom. The sacrifice was made; but in no humble, no resigned spirit. My whole being revolted against it with mute and powerless resentment. A captive in the subtle net of fate, I felt as if I could have struggled, even unto death, against those slender bonds which I did not dare to break. Cornelius watched me silently, and read on my face what was passing within me.
"Daisy," he said, in a low, sad tone, "remember we are not men or women until our hearts are mastered, until our passions—ay, the best and purest—lie subdued."
The words subdued my resentful mood to a sorrow more tender and holy. My burden was heavy, but was it more than I could bear? Daughter of the cross, should I dare to repine? I yielded; I tasted the bitter joy which those who bravely drain the cup of sacrifice find in its dregs—a strange sort of sweetness, to be felt, not described, and, alas! not to be envied.
"Cornelius!" I replied, and my faltering voice grew more firm as I uttered his name—"Cornelius, I am willing. Your word shall be redeemed!"
I was going to rise, but lightly resting his hand on my shoulder, he detained me. He stooped, and laid his lips on my brow. He did not say so, but I knew that this was his farewell kiss—the seal set on the love, care, and tenderness of years. The embrace lasted a moment only; the next he had risen. I rose too; I tied my bonnet-strings; he helped me to wrap my scarf around me: mechanically I picked up the flowers he had given me; then silently took his arm, and left the spot where I had decided my destiny.
CHAPTER X.
To reach Thornton House, we had to follow the windings of the stream for some time; cross a one-arched bridge that spanned it, then enter the solitary path that led to the old lodge and iron gate. We had not far to go, but my heart seemed to sink with every step I took; as I perceived the dark trees of the park rising before us, a sudden faintness seized me. I stopped short, and laying my head on the shoulder of Cornelius, I said: