"It is so, then! I knew it, Evans;—prescience, I suppose. I am a granddaughter of South Carolina, you know. I know in my own heart what her sorrow would be."
"No, no, Elise, you misjudge my mother. She would love you as she loves me."
"Love me, yes—as well as even now I love—your mother. I believe it and am glad, Evans. But, with all her loving, she could not put away shame and grief. I know, dear, I know. She would love me and—curse me."
"No, no, you do not know. I am willing to speak for my mother. She will—"
"But who can speak for the voters in the coming election? No, Evans, I must not! It would defeat you. Your sacrifice would be too great!"
"There would be no sacrifice. You are worth it all to me, dearest heart—and more. And beside, I do not think the voters of my State would—"
"Wait," said Elise. "Answer me—and answer me truly, for remember my pride is gone and only love is in my heart. Will you win the Senatorship?"
"The prospect is quite alluring," the man replied. "The betting is 2 to 1 that the first primary will not elect, and 9 to 10 that I will defeat Mr. Killam in the second. Robertson really seems to be convinced that I am to succeed."
"Oh, how good that is! I pray for you—but would it not cost you votes, maybe the election, to marry me?—to be engaged to me, even? Do not deceive me. Have you not thought of the hurt it would do your chance of success? Truth and honour, now,—as I love you."
In the face of that sacred obligation Rutledge hesitated an instant.