“I am deeply grieved for your sake,” continued Kāra, and indeed the sight of her sweet face, convulsed with anguish, so appealed to him at the moment that his speech was almost sincere. “I know what this disgrace will mean to you, Aneth—the avoidance of your former associates, and the jeers, perhaps, of those who have envied you. The world is heartless always, and visits the sins of the fathers upon their children; so that your innocence will not be considered save by your truest friends.”
He paused, for she was crying now, softly but miserably, and the tears moved him strangely.
“That is why I have come,” he continued, his voice trembling with earnestness, “to assure you of my faith in you and of my steadfast friendship. Nay, more; I offer to protect you against the sneers of all the world, if you will grant me the right.”
The girl started, glancing nervously and almost affrightedly into his face.
“I—I do not understand you, Prince Kāra,” she murmured.
“Then I must speak more plainly,” he quickly rejoined, springing up to stand before her with sparkling eyes and outstretched hands.
“Aneth, my sweet one, I love you! To me you represent the joys of earth and the delights of paradise. Only in your presence do I find happiness and content. Be my wife, Aneth; give me yourself, and I will guard you so well and place you so high that all the world will bow at your feet.”
The speech shocked her, for there was no mistaking the man’s earnestness. Nor did she know how to reply, the proposal being as unexpected as it was inopportune. Aneth may have had vague dreams of love, as maidens will and should have; but she had been so happy in Cairo that she had not thought the attentions of Kāra meant more than the kindly good-fellowship of the other men she had met. Indeed, she had not considered such a subject at all, and at this hour, when her heart was wrung with grief, she found in it no response to her suitor’s fervid appeals.
“I cannot reply to you just now, Prince Kāra,” she said, with hesitation; “it is all new to me, and quite unexpected, and—and I do not wish to marry anyone.”
His face hardened as he gazed upon her timid, shrinking form, but the longing in his dark eyes remained. With all his lately acquired polish, the native failed to comprehend that an English girl does not yield herself to the demands of any man unless her heart and inclinations lead her to acknowledge his authority. But he was wise enough to perceive that the difficulties of the situation required tact if he wished to succeed.