Speaking, his light clasp grew tight on her hand.
The face and throat that had shown swan-white in the water grew rose-red, then disappeared as Edith started back.
“How could I look forward to anything else, Edith?” the young man exclaimed desperately. “I have never dreamed of any other life. I have worked, and studied, and hoped for you. What! will you turn away from me now, for the first time? God have mercy on me!”
She did not utter a word at first. She was too much confounded. It was to her as though the friend she had so long known had been suddenly snatched from her side, and a stranger like, and yet unlike, him put in his place. This man with the pallid face and trembling voice was not Dick Rowan. She wanted to get away from him. But after a step or two she turned back again.
“Who would have thought it?” she said, looking at him anxiously, as though half hoping that the whole was a jest.
“Who would have thought anything
else?” he replied, taking courage.
She turned away again, but he walked on beside her. It was too late to withdraw. Having spoken, he must say all.
“I think you were the only person who did not see what I lived for,” he said.
“But it is nonsense!” she exclaimed.