"
Apprehension came into her eyes. She rose and moved towards the
bed-curtains, and, in the vain hope of turning him from his purpose by
pretending not to perceive it, said, with a sad little smile:
"Alas! it is out of my poor power to confer happiness!"
She half-turned her head towards where I stood behind the curtains,
partly at thought of the happiness that it seemed impossible for her to
confer on me, partly in fear lest Montignac's words might bring me forth.
"It is easily in your power to confer more than happiness," said
Montignac.
"How, monsieur?" she faltered, trembling under two fears, that of
Montignac's ardor and that of my disclosing myself. "I am puzzled to
know."
"By conferring your hand, mademoiselle," said Montignac, following her
and grasping her wrist. "Your father will be glad to give his consent for
his liberty, if he knows that you have given yours. But we can arrange to
proceed without his consent. Do not draw back, mademoiselle. It is
marriage that I offer, when I might make other terms. My family is a good
one; my prospects are the best, and I have to lay at your feet a love
that has never been offered to another, a love as deep as it is fresh--"
I clutched the curtain to give vent to my rage. Mademoiselle was looking
towards me, and saw the curtain move.
"Say no more!" she cried, fearful lest his continuance might be too much
for my restraint.
Pages:
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358