She released one of her hands, and put it up to her face.
Captain Bohun grew more earnest in his pleading; he was really thinking this thing might be.
"I shall declare the truth to Sir William--and I know that I ought to have done so before, Ellen. When he knows how very near we were to being man and wife, he will make no further objection to giving you to me now. My care and love will restore you, if anything can."
She had put down her hand again, and was looking at him, a little startled and her cheeks hectic.
"Arthur, hush. Papa must never know this while I live. Do as you will afterwards."
"I shall tell him before the day's out," persisted Captain Bohun. And she began to tremble with agitation.
"No, no. I say no. I should die with the shame."
"What shame?" he rejoined.
"The shame that--that--fell upon me. The shame of--after having consented to a secret marriage, you should have left me as you did, and not fulfilled it, and never told me why. It lies upon me still, and I cannot help it. I think it is that that has helped to kill me more than all the rest. Oh, Arthur, forgive me for saying this! But do not renew the shame now."
Never had his past conduct been brought so forcibly home to him. Never had his heart so ached with its repentance and pain.