Part 33 (1/2)
”Mrs. Randolph has almost signified to me that her favour will depend on my taking such a course, and doing all I can to help on the Confederacy.”
”Yes, I know,” I said rather sadly; ”mamma feels very strongly about it.”
”You do not?”
”Yes, Mr. Marshall, I do; but it is in a different way.”
”I wish you would explain,” he said earnestly.
”But I do not like to set myself in opposition to mamma; and you ought to do what you yourself think right, Mr. Marshall; not what either of us thinks.”
”What do _you_ think is right?” he repeated eagerly.
”My thoughts do not make or unmake anything.”
”They make - they will make, if you will let them - the rule of my life,” he answered. ”I have no dearer wish.”
I was struck with dismay.
”Please do not say that!” I said trembling. ”My thoughts should rule only my own life; not anybody, else's.”
”One more!” said Hugh Marshall. ”They must rule one more.
There will be one, somewhere, whose highest pleasure will be to please you, as long as he has a life to give to it. - Will you take mine?” he said after a pause and in a lower tone. ”I offer it to you undividedly.”
It cannot be told, the sickness of heart which came over me.
The mistake I had made in my blindness, the sorrowfulness of it, the pain I must give, the mischief it might do, I saw it all at once. For a while, I could not find words to speak.
Hugh studied my face, and must have seen no ground of hope there, for he did not speak either. He was quite silent and left it to me. Oh, Lake of Annecy! what pain comes to me now with the remembrance of your sweet waters.
I turned at last and laid my hand upon Hugh's arm. He did not mistake me; he took my hand in his, and stood looking at me with a face as grave as my own.
”What is the matter, Daisy?” he said sorrowfully.
”I have made a miserable mistake!” I said. ”Cannot we be friends, Mr. Marshall? - dear friends, and nothing more?”
”Why 'nothing more'?”
”I can be no more to you,” I answered.
”Why not?”
”I have not the feeling. I have not the power. I would, if I could.”
”It is I who have made a mistake,” he said, as he dropped my hand.
”No, it is I,” I said bitterly. ”I have been childishly wrong.
I have been foolish. It never entered my thought, that you - or anybody - liked me, except as a friend.”
”And he got your heart without your knowing it?”