"Nay you must accept it, dearest Constance," he said. "You well know you have my heart's love, and I think you will not refuse to be mine."
"'Twould be too great happiness to be yours," she rejoined. "But no—no—I ought not to consent."
By way of reply, he pressed her to his heart, and kissed her passionately.
"Now will you refuse?" he cried.
"How can I, since you have wrested my consent from me?" she rejoined. "But how am I to address you?"
"You must still call me Atherton Legh," he replied.
"Well, then, dearest Atherton, my heart misgives me. In urging you to join this expedition I fear I have done wrong. Should any misfortune happen to you I shall deem myself the cause of it. I tremble to think of the consequences of my folly. Must you go?" she added, looking imploringly at him.
"Yes," he replied. "Not even you, dearest Constance, can turn me from my purpose. The prince has relieved me from my engagement, but I cannot honourably retire. Come what may, I shall go on."
"I will not attempt to dissuade you from your purpose," she rejoined. "But I find it doubly hard to part now. And your danger seems greater."
"Mere fancy," he said. "You love me better than you did—that is the cause of your increased apprehension."