She perceived that Espy had heard nothing of her changed circumstances and the consequent alteration in his father’s feelings; and, for reasons of her own, she preferred that he should for the present remain in ignorance of these things; yet she could not drive him from her again, could not deny to him or herself the happiness that now might be lawfully theirs.
Besides, she felt that his reasoning was sound; that he was of age to choose for himself, and to disregard his father’s refusal to give consent.
“Floy, Floy, you will not, cannot be so cruel as to bid me begone?”
Espy’s voice was full of passionate entreaty, and his grasp tightened upon her hand.
“No, no, I cannot,” she faltered; “I cannot so reward such love and constancy as yours. When we last met you refused to accept your freedom, and—you—shall not have it now,” she concluded playfully, lifting a smiling, blushing face to his for an instant, then half averting it as she caught the look of ecstasy in his.
“Your willing slave for life, I hug my chain!” he cried in transport.
“Which means me, I suppose,” she laughed, for he drew his arm more closely about her as he spoke.
“A golden chain,” he whispered low and rapturously; “such fetters and warder as Fitz-James appointed for the Graeme.”
Another arch smile, and another swift, bewitching glance from the lustrous eyes, were the only reply vouchsafed him; but he seemed satisfied.