“But ’tis not yet ten o’clock.”
“Good heaven, sir, does it not follow that our agreement is annulled by your release if you accept it?—and your duty to her leaves you no choice but to accept. Will you stand upon an hour or two, when you’ve had near full benefit of the bargain for nothing, as it turns out?”
“You are right,” said Everell, with humility. “I will go as soon as I have said farewell to her.”
“But, my dear sir, that very ordeal is one you must spare her. Do you not see how the case stands? She was in great terror lest you should be given up: relieved upon that point, she asks no more. She is content with having gained your life: in that mood, she is willing to forego another meeting. It would only start her grief afresh: for that reason, I advised her to go to her room. As you value her peace, you must depart without seeing her.”
“Depart without seeing her!” Everell looked wistfully toward the hall, through which she must have passed to reach her apartments. He fetched a long and tremulous sigh; then bethought him of the miniature, and, taking it out, stood gazing on it with moist eyes. He gently kissed it, and replaced it in his pocket. “Well, sir, heaven knows I wouldn’t cause her fresh grief. But this I may ask—nay, must know:—when shall I be permitted to see her again?”
“’Tis not in my power to answer, your own future being unknown to me. Certainly you mustn’t see her during your present stay in England—which, if you are wise, you will devote entirely to getting out of England. As to the future more distant, all depends upon how matters shape themselves.”
“At least, then, I may hope! She will be true, I know. There will be an amnesty some day, and I may return to England without danger. In the meantime, you—and she—may be coming to France. I will write to her from there.”
“And not till you have arrived there, I trust. Until your safety is assured, any communication from you must give a new edge to her anxiety. But I demand no promises.” Foxwell intended to expedite the marriage: once his purposes were secured, Georgiana’s conduct would be Thornby’s affair. Now that her consent had been obtained, haste was possible. Meanwhile, he could intercept any letter that came by regular post. Therefore, ’twas better not to force Everell to secret means of correspondence.
“Then, sir,” said Everell, with a wan attempt at a smile, “as you demand no promises, I will make none. On the hope of meeting her again, in safer times, I shall live. In that hope, I must go. Tell her—” he paused a moment, but his thoughts were in a tumult—“Nay, words are too feeble! I thank her, not for my life, which is hers to use as she will; but for her love, which gives my life all its value. Adieu, sir!—no more!”
With that, he hastened abruptly, half-blindly, to the hall; and thence to his chamber, where he donned his sword, hat, cloak, and riding-boots. He threw his few other belongings into the bag, made sure his money was safe in pocket, and returned to the hall, thinking to leave by way of the courtyard and thus soonest gain the road. There was the darkness for his safety, and the whirl of his thoughts to speed him on to Burndale, where he could knock up some innkeeper, and take horse for the South at dawn.