The young man was puzzled for a reply. His thoughtful silence was evidently causing her uneasiness that each moment increased. Her glances betokened some painful suspicion.
She did not wait for his answer; but, in a voice that trembled, put the additional interrogative,—
“Have you made a promise?”
“To whom?”
“Oh, Herbert! do not ask me to pronounce the name. You must know to whom I allude.”
Herbert was relieved by the interrogatory. It changed the current of his thoughts, at the same time giving him a cue for something to say.
“Ha! ha!” laughed he; “I think, cousin, I comprehend you. A promise, indeed! Nothing of the sort, I assure you; though, since you have been good enough to make confession, neither shall I conceal what has passed between her to whom you refer and myself. There was no love between us—at least, none upon my side, I can assure you, cousin. But, I will confess that, stung by what I fancied was your coldness to me—misled by a thousand reports, now happily found to be false—I had nearly committed myself to the speaking of a word which no doubt I should have rued throughout all the rest of my life. Thank fortune! circumstances have saved me—saved us both, may I say?”
“Oh, happiness! Herbert—Herbert! then you will be mine—mine only?”
Yielding to the promptings of an all-absorbing passion, the young creole gave utterance to this bold interrogatory.
“Dearest Kate!” replied the lover, half delirious with joy, “my heart is yours—all yours. My hand—oh, cousin, I scarce dare to offer it! You are rich—grand—and I—I poor—penniless—even without a home!”