Sinking into a chair, he laid his head upon the table, while, burying my face in the cushions of the sofa, I wept bitterly, stealing occasional glances towards the bowed form which, in its despair, gave no sign of life. There was no acting there, for it was the grief of a strong man which I saw. Without, the storm had ceased; the wind had died away, and the rain no longer beat against the casement; but within, there raged a wilder storm of human passions, and as it swept over me in its full force, I cried, mentally, “Ought I thus to deal with him? I loved him once, perhaps I could do so again. I would at least try.” And, rising up, I glided noiselessly to his side. He did not hear me, and, for a time, I stood gazing down upon him, while I thought of all he had suffered, and of his love for me, which I could not doubt. The shadow no longer stood between us; it was gone, and, strengthened by its absence, I laid my hand upon his shoulder. He shuddered as if it had been a serpent’s touch, but when I whispered in his ear, “Look up, I have something to tell you,” he raised his head, disclosing to my view a face over which years seemed to have passed since last I had looked upon it.
“I will try,” I said, “but give me one day for reflection, and to-morrow night you shall have your answer.”
As the clouds are dispersed by the soft rays of the sun, so the shadows passed from his brow at my words, and clasping me in his arms he wept over me, as Heaven grant I may never see man weep again.
The fire on the hearth had long since gone out. The lamp was burning dimly, and the moon-beams came faintly in through an eastern window ere I bade him good night, and sought the solitude of my room, where my resolution almost instantly gave way, for the shadow was there, and in its presence I felt I would rather die than wed a man I did not love.
“Oh, for a female friend with whom to counsel in my need,” I said, as I nervously paced the room.
I thought of Mrs. Lansing. She was a woman—she had been kind to me of late, and after a few moments’ reflection I determined to ask her advice. This being settled, I fell into a disturbed sleep, from which I did not wake until the bell was ringing for breakfast. I met him at the table, and my heart beat fast when I saw how anxiously he scanned my haggard face.
“You are sick this morning,” he said, when at last we were alone.
Taking my hand he felt my quickened pulse, and continued, “This must not be. Calm yourself down, for I would not wish you to answer me under all this excitement.”
Soon after this he left me, going down to the hotel where he had first stopped on his arrival at W——. As soon as he was gone I sought an interview with Mrs. Lansing, to whom I confided the whole story of my former love for Dr. Clayton, and of my feelings now, asking her to tell me as a friend what I should do. I did not dare look her in the face while I was talking, and when I had finished I waited with downcast eyes for her answer, which was characteristic of a woman who had never known what love was, save as she felt it for her children.
“Do! Why, marry him of course. I should not hesitate a moment, for ’tis not every girl in your circumstances who has an offer like that. He seems to be a perfect gentleman,—is certainly very fine looking—is refined, polished, highly educated, and has a good profession. What more can you desire?”