"If to say I meant no offence," said Charles, "is to say I meant no insult, I say it freely."
"Enough," cried Marchdale; "I am satisfied."
"But do not," added Charles, "draw me any more such pictures as the one you have already presented to my imagination, I beg of you. From the storehouse of my own fancy I can find quite enough to make me wretched, if I choose to be so; but again and again do I say I will not allow this monstrous superstition to tread me down, like the tread of a giant on a broken reed. I will contend against it while I have life to do so."
"Bravely spoken."
"And when I desert Flora Bannerworth, may Heaven, from that moment, desert me!"
"Charles!" cried Henry, with emotion, "dear Charles, my more than friend—brother of my heart—noble Charles!"
"Nay, Henry, I am not entitled to your praises. I were base indeed to be other than that which I purpose to be. Come weal or woe—come what may, I am the affianced husband of your sister, and she, and she only, can break asunder the tie that binds me to her."