He spoke so kindly that the hot tears came with a swift rush to Georgie’s eyes, which were very lustrous and beseeching, when for an instant they looked up at Roy, who continued:
“I don’t believe you do; and if not, don’t marry him for the sake of an aim in life. Better carry out your other Quixotic idea, and teach the Southern negroes. But why do either? Why not come here and live with me? I have always had an idea that you would come some time. Will you, Georgie?”
For a moment Georgie sat perfectly silent, looking at him with an expression of perfect happiness beaming in her eyes, and showing itself in every feature of her face; then gradually the expression changed, and was succeeded by one of terror and remorse, and the dark eyes turned away from Roy, and seemed to be looking far away at something which made them terrible while that fixed, stony gaze lasted. Wondering greatly at her manner, Roy said, “Georgie, won’t you answer me?”
And this time he passed his arm around her, but she writhed herself from his embrace, and putting out both hands, said impetuously.
“Don’t, Roy; don’t touch me; don’t say the words again to me; take them back, please, lest it prove a greater temptation than I can bear, for, Roy, oh, Roy, I do—I do love you, and if I could I would so gladly live with you always; but—but—I can’t,—I can’t. I am—I was—oh, Roy, take the words back before I go quite mad.”
He almost thought her mad now, and came a little nearer to her, asking what she meant, and why, if she loved him as she had said, his asking her to marry him should affect her so. And while he said this to her she began to recover her composure, and to be more like herself. The good impulse which had counselled her not to deceive Roy Leighton, and impose herself upon him without a confession of the past, was subsiding; and though there still were bitter pangs of remorse and terrible regrets for the past, she began to feel that she could not lose what she had desired so long, and to Roy’s questionings, she answered: “I am not so good as you think me. I am not worthy of you. I am—you don’t know how bad I am. You would hate me if you did.”
She was growing excited again. All the good there was in the woman was asserting itself in Roy’s behalf, and she continued:
“Everybody would hate me as I hate myself always.”
He took a step backward as if she really were the creature she professed to be; but now it was her hand which was reached out to him. She could not let him go, and she gasped,—
“But Roy, with you, who are so noble and good, I could learn to be better, and I will. I swear it here, that if you make me your wife, I will be true and faithful, and do my best to make you happy. Try me and see if I don’t.”