“That is implied, certainly,” said Foxwell. “The alternative we are imagining is: Death for love gratified—life for love renounced.”
“Catch a fellow of his years and looks choosing death on any such terms, if the choice were offered him,” said Mrs. Winter, derisively.
“’Tis precisely his youth that would make him give all for love,” said Rashleigh; “the more so if this be his first serious love.—But what is to be his fate, Bob? If you hand him over to the authorities, he will certainly be hanged, unless that paper lies.”
“Egad, I was just thinking,” replied Foxwell, with the faint smile that comes with a piquant idea; “an Italian duke, a century or two ago, would have amused his visitors, and settled the point of our dispute, by putting this young gentleman to the test. I must say, experiments upon the human passions have an interest, though the loggish minds of our countrymen don’t often rise to such refinements of curiosity.”
“I see nothing in it to balk at,” said Rashleigh. “At the worst, the young man can but die, as he must if you do your plain duty as a loyal subject. ’Twould really be giving him a chance for his life. It seems an excellent way out of your own indecision as to what you should do with him: you transfer his fate from your will to his.”
“I believe he does love the girl,” said Foxwell, revolving the notion in his mind. “And certainly his life is in my power—we may let him go if we choose, and the government be none the wiser, or we may dutifully hand him over to the law. We can offer him, on the one hand, his life and freedom if he will give up his love upon the instant and for ever, not to set eyes upon the girl again: on the other hand, a brief period of grace, which he may pass with her on the footing of a favoured suitor, on condition of handing him over to the authorities at the end.”
“And if he decline to choose?” asked Rashleigh.
“Then I can send word straightway to Jeremiah Filson to fetch the officers. In that event, young Troilus will lose both life and love. Either choice will be a gain upon that.—But you may save your pity, Lady Strange: he will choose to live and go free, depend on it.”
“I will not depend on it. He will obey the dictates of his love, and choose death rather than never see her again.”
“Indeed, I shall not be surprised if he does so,” said Rashleigh. “You take too little account of his youth, Bob. When men are of his age, and of an ardent nature, their love shuts out everything else from their view. ’Tis their universe. Beyond it, or apart from it, there’s nothing.”