“Nay, persuade her no more, Lady Strange,” said he, testily. “God’s name, miss!—be true to your lover, if you think it so, and send him to die for your truth. I am going now to write a line for my messenger to carry. It might have been a line to Thornby, accompanied by a few words of your own inditing. But, as it cannot be so, it must be to those who want news of the rebel.” With that, Foxwell was about to go to the drawing-room.
“No, no!” exclaimed Georgiana, rising to stop him. “I will consent—I will save the rebel. False to him, for love of him!—he will understand.”
“Nay, but he is not to understand,” objected Foxwell. “He is to know nothing of this. Do you not see, he might rather give himself up than have you marry another?—might refuse to be saved by such means. For his own sake, he mustn’t know the condition. You had best not see him again: leave me to dismiss him. I make no doubt he will accept his liberty now for your sake, and agree to the voiding of our compact, whereof he has had near the full benefit. Best not see him: you might betray all.”
“Not see him!” wept Georgiana.
“’Tis best not. If he stand to our agreement and demand to see you, why, then, so it must be, and I know not what will ensue. Do not fear I shall misrepresent you to him. He shall know you have won his life by your pleading, upon condition he goes away forthwith—that is all. ’Tis agreed to, then?”
“Yes,” said Georgiana, faintly; and added as if speaking to herself, “I shall know that somewhere he lives!”
At this instant the door from the library opened, whereupon Foxwell looked around sharply, thinking Everell had taken it upon himself to reappear unbidden. But the intruder proved to be the waiting-woman Prudence, who had fallen asleep over her sewing while Georgiana was reading to Everell, and whom the lovers had left unnoticed in her corner. Having just now wakened, and seen Everell alone before the fireplace, looking strangely pale and excited, she had come forth in quest of her mistress. In obedience to Foxwell’s imperious motion, she shut the door, and hastened to the half-swooning niece.
“Then,” said Foxwell to Georgiana, “I beg you will go to your room and write a brief letter to Mr. Thornby, informing him you accept his proposal of marriage, conditionally upon such terms as your representative—and so forth. Lady Strange will perhaps be so kind as to advise you in the wording—the form matters little, only let it be plain you act of your free will.”
“Of my free will—yes,” murmured Georgiana, wearily, accepting the guidance of Lady Strange’s hand.
“When the letter is finished, send it down to me straightway; and best keep to your room for the rest of the evening,” added Foxwell, as Lady Strange and the girl passed out to the hall.