Theresa mused. His appeal had been so impassioned, so full of heart, that it was not in her nature to hurt his feelings. He noted her indecision:
“You hesitate, my darling! I have not given you time enough. You want more. Take it. Weeks, months, a year! I can wait, only give me some hope, and promise that you will no longer listen to this plotting Englishman.”
“Do not deceive yourself, Joseph,” she said. “It is not in my power to do as you ask. Spare me any longer speech upon the subject. It is only just to me that you should cease.”
“You are hasty; you should take time.”
“This was decided some time since,” she returned, quietly gathering up some things from the table, and placing them in a box at her side.
“It then remains for me to tell you what may result, if you push me too far. Remember, I can bear, and have borne much for your sake. There is only one way by which you can save yourself and him.”
“You have no power over him,” she answered, with a curl of her proud lip. “What may be the way in which we may be saved?”
“By being my wife.”
“Death before such a redemption! Do you use threats to me?”