He gazed at her with lit eyes.
“I will be worthy of you,” he answered, with proud fervor. “The Hereafter is ours. Many an earthly marriage is but a tent of the night, folded by death, and never to be raised again; but ours is a temple eternal in the heavens.”
Drawing her to his bosom, he pressed his lips to hers; then rose to his feet, and stood before her.
“My duty is clear, Muriel,” he said, in firm, determined tones. “What is all suffering that will follow my death, compared with the suffering and the wrong my death will prevent? Think of the scene we saw at Roux’s house, when Emily wished to buy his brother. Think of Antony being dragged back to torture and murder. Think of that poor brother’s agony when he learns that Antony has been recaptured. Think of all the misery and the outrage now impending. It must not be. And beyond it all is the duty I owe my country and mankind. I have sworn to balk tyrants—I have sworn to stand up for the helpless and the poor. Never yet has a man suffered wrong that I could prevent, or gone unsuccored when I could succor him. Not now shall the weak and friendless find me a dastard in their cause. So then”—
He paused, stifled with sudden emotion.
“So then”—she repeated, looking at him with a still countenance.
A rapture of color blazed upon his pallid face, and he flung up his arms.
“So then,” he cried, in a ringing voice, “I must say like him of the old Commonwealth, ‘To heaven, my love, to heaven, and leave you in the storm!’”
Her eyes flashed, and she rose to her feet with the rich blood glowing in her kindled features.
“Brave heart!” she passionately cried, “one hour of life with you is worth annihilation! Away with grief—let it never come nigh me! I swear to you, Harrington, never, when you are gone, shall one pulse of sorrow stir within me—never shall one tear stain the lustre of my soul’s pride in you! You die—die?—no!—it is not death, but life! It is the life of life to die for man!”