“If you would abandon any dreams you may have entertained of marriage—of future meetings with him—of correspondence, in the event of my saving him from the gallows—”
“I will abandon whatever you require,—only to know that he goes free, only to feel that somewhere in the world he lives!”
“Well,” said Foxwell, slowly, “I will let him go free—”
Georgiana uttered a cry of joy.
“—if,” continued Foxwell, “you will accept the proposal—the very advantageous proposal—which Mr. Thornby has done you the honour of making.”
“Accept the proposal—of Mr. Thornby?” repeated Georgiana, in utter surprise.
“Yes—give your consent to the marriage, of your own free will, letting it be clear that there has been no force or compulsion to influence you.”
“But,” Georgiana faltered, looking distressedly toward the door by which Everell had left the room, “I cannot love Mr. Thornby.”
“’Tis not absolutely necessary you should love him,” replied Foxwell, dryly.
“Oh, no, no!” cried Georgiana, as her imagination fully mastered the case. “I cannot! ’Twould be like—’twould be horrible!”