“Jessie,” said Malcolmson, surprised at her agitation, “this is an unexpected reception. Am I an object of dread to you? I came here, ready and willing to fulfil my promise, and to claim you as my bride, and you seem to shrink from me, as if I were hateful in your sight.”
“Oh, no!—not hateful, Edward. My heart owns you as an old and dear friend. There,” said she, putting her hand into his, “there is the hand I promised you! But, as it is to be so, would that we had never parted!”
“What do I hear?” said he, in a tone which surprised her; “you say, here is my hand! Is your heart not with it, Jessie?”
“Edward,” answered she, “this is no time for dissimulation. We are about to take a step on which our happiness or misery for life depends. You will despise me, Edward, but I dare not deceive you. My hand is yours, if you desire it; but my heart is another’s.” And, thus saying, she looked fearfully in his face, to see what effect her confession would have upon him. To her great surprise, a flush of gratification spread over his countenance, and he exclaimed—
“Heaven be praised! O Jessie, what a load of unhappiness you have removed from my heart! But why did you not write to me? Why did you not tell me of the change in your sentiments? And you have been dreading to meet me! and I have been equally alarmed at the thoughts of meeting you! How ridiculous! Two old lovers acting bugbear to each other! There is one comfort, however, Jessie, the one cannot rail at the other for inconstancy; for I have been playing truant as well as yourself. But who is the happy man who has supplanted me in your affections? I sincerely trust that he is worthy of you.”
“You may have an opportunity of judging for yourself, ere long,” replied she, smiling; “but I will call my friend Mrs Jameson, to you—she will explain all.”
She then sent for Mrs Jameson, and, having introduced her to Malcolmson, and briefly stated how matters stood between them, left them alone together.
Mrs Jameson gave Malcolmson a full account of all that had taken place on board, spoke with enthusiastic admiration of the struggle, in both the lovers, between “passion and principle,” and ended with saying that she considered Jessie a fortunate woman to have gained the affection of so amiable and estimable a man.
“But where is he? You must introduce me to him. I will go and bring him to you. I daresay I shall find him somewhere on deck.” And away he went in search of him. The deck was strewed with passengers’ luggage, and a young and handsome man was moving about among it, apparently selecting his own.