"Yes, Michael, but--"
"But what! there is no but; he permits you to give me your hand; there
is then no but--'a jailer to bring forth some monstrous malefactor.'"
"Yet listen! You know I was to have been his heiress!"
"No, indeed I did not know it! never heard it! never suspected it! never
even thought of it! How did I know but that he had sons and daughters,
or nephews away at school!"
"Well, I was to have been his heiress. Now he disinherits me, unless I
consent to be married to his friend and favorite, Dr. Grimshaw."
"You put the case gently and delicately, dear Edith, but the hard truth
is this--is it not--that he will disinherit you, if you consent to be
mine? You need not answer me, dearest Edith, if you do not wish to; but
listen--I have nothing but my sword, and beyond my boundless love
nothing to offer you but the wayward fate of a soldier's wife. Your eyes
are full of tears. Speak, Edith Lance! Can you share the soldier's
wandering life? Speak, Edith, or lay your hand in mine. Yet, no! no! no!
I am selfish and unjust. Take time, love, to think of all you abandon,
all that you may encounter in joining your fate to mine. God knows what
it has cost me to say it--but--take time, Edith," and he pressed and
dropped her hand.
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