"Fear not," said Hyland, and he conjured Oran himself to depart. "Let the girl come to her," he added; "perhaps Phoebe's appearance may relieve her."
But even the presence of Phoebe, now quite content with captivity, (so successful had been the arguments of her wooer,) failed to banish her agitation; and at last, bewildered and in despair, incapable of devising any other means to give her comfort, Hyland checked his horse and hers, and assisted her to dismount.
"Do with me what you will, Catherine Loring," he said—"I am a fool, a wretch, perhaps a villain."
"Oh no, no!" said the maiden; "only take me back, and all will again be well—all will be forgotten."
"Nothing again will be well with me," said the young man, "and nothing, I fear me, with you. Catherine, there is but a moment to decide. In snatching you from the altar, I did the only thing in my power to secure happiness to both,—or at least, to secure us from the misery that was falling on us like a mountain. You hated Henry Falconer"——
"I did—No, no! not hate; it was not hate," murmured the Captain's daughter.
"You hated him, Catherine, and—why should I fear to speak it?—you loved another—you loved me, Catherine—By heaven, it is true! I felt it, and I knew it; else how could I have done this thing? It is true—and hide it not from yourself, since your own weal, as well as mine, depends upon your resolution this moment."
"Speak not to me so, oh, for heaven's sake do not," cried Catherine, weeping—"I never gave you cause. Take me only to my father."
"To wed with Henry Falconer, and pronounce a vow your heart forswears?"
"I will never marry him—never, never!" said Catherine, with vehemence: "I would have told him so, only that my father stood by, and I knew it would kill him."