Bonnibel looked down at the shimmering opal on her finger, and a blush of shame rose over her delicate features. She thought to herself, impulsively:
"This is dreadful for me—a wedded wife—to sit here and listen to such words without the power of protesting against them."
"Perhaps you think I am too old for you, my angel," said the colonel, breaking the silence; "but my heart and my feelings are much younger than my years. I could not have loved you more ardently thirty years ago. But if age is a fault in your eyes, my darling, I will atone for it by every indulgence on earth, and by a deathless devotion."
"Oh, pray, do not say another word, Colonel Carlyle. It can never be, sir. I can never be your wife!" exclaimed the girl, in deep agitation.
"But why not, my dearest girl?"
"I do not love you, sir," said the girl, cresting her graceful head half-haughtily upon her slender throat.
"I will teach you to love me, darling. Come, say that you will let me take you away from this house, where I can see that they hate you, and make your life more happy. I will do anything to further your happiness, Bonnibel," urged the colonel.
"What you wish is quite impossible, sir. I beg that you will dismiss the subject, my dear, kind friend, and forget it," repeated Bonnibel, earnestly.
"I will not take no for an answer," replied the colonel, obdurately. "I have taken you by surprise, and you do not know your own mind, my dear little girl. I will give you a week to decide in. Think of all the advantages I can offer you, Bonnibel, and of my devoted love, and say yes when I come back for your answer."