“Please do not ask me, you'll make me very miserable.”
“I would not cause you one single pang, if to avoid it I had to die. Believe me, all I wish to know is, whether I have been so blind as not to see your dislike; whether it was your own choice to go, or you were compelled to do so by your mother?”
“Please don't blame mamma.”
“I do not blame her in the least. She has a perfect right to object to me if she wishes, but I too, have at least, the sad privilege of asking whether you also object to me?”
“I have nothing against you; I like you very much, as—as a friend,” she said, trembling, painfully agitated.
Clarence laughed a hoarse, discordant laugh that made her feel miserable.
“I have been told that young ladies say that always, when they mean to let down easily a poor devil whom they pity and perhaps despise. Thanks, Miss Mercedes, for liking me ‘as a friend,’ thank you. Perhaps I am a presumptuous fool to love you, but love you I must, for I can not help it.”
He stood up and looked down at the dark ocean in silence. She looked up to his face and her beautiful features looked so pleadingly sad, that he forgot his own misery and thought only of the pain those superb eyes revealed.
He seated himself very near her, and took both of her hands in his own. Surely there was something troubling her.
“How cold these dear little hands are. Have I caused you pain?” he asked. She nodded but did not speak.