Part 5 (1/2)
”May I ask your motive?”
”To repent of my sins.”
”You would have to confess at a convent. Why not imagine me a venerable father, dozing after a good dinner, and make your first essay at the confessional?”
”You tax my imagination too greatly. So I should have to confess; therefore no convent for me.”
”Of course not. I should protest against it at the very altar, and in the teeth of the Pope himself. Can't you repent of your sins in some other way?”
”I suppose I shall have to.”
”They would be a queer lot of little peccadilloes. I should like to set them all under a microscope.”
”I would rather that your gla.s.s should be a goblet brimmed from Lethe.”
”There is no Lethe for me, Miss Marian, so far as you are concerned.”
”Come, tell me the news from the seat of war,” she said, abruptly.
”This luxurious arm-chair is not a seat of war.”
”Papa has been telling me how Southern girls make all the men enlist.”
”I'll enlist to-morrow, if you ask me to.”
”Oh, no. You might be shot, and then you would haunt me all my life.”
”May I not haunt you anyway?” said Lane, resolutely, for he had determined not to let this opportunity pa.s.s. She was alone, and he would confirm the hope which her manner for months had inspired.
”Come, Miss Marian,” he continued, springing to his feet and approaching her side, his dark eyes full of fire and entreaty; ”you cannot have misunderstood me. You know that while not a soldier I am also not a carpet-knight and have not idled in ladies' bowers.
I have worked hard and dreamed of you. I am willing to do all that a man can to win you. Cowardice has not kept me from the war, but you. If it would please you I would put on the blue and shoulder a musket to-morrow. If you will permit more discretion and time, I can soon obtain a commission as an officer. But before I fight other battles, I wish to win the supreme victory of my life. Whatever orders I may take from others, you shall ever be my superior officer.
You have seen this a long time; a woman of your mind could not help it. I have tried to hope with all a lover's fondness that you gave me glimpses of your heart also, but of this nothing would satisfy a man of my nature but absolute a.s.surance.”
He stood proudly yet humbly before her, speaking with strong, impa.s.sioned, fluent utterance, for he was a man who had both the power and the habit of expression.
She listened with something like dismay. Her heart, instead of kindling, grew only more heavy and remorseful. Her whole nature shrunk, while pity and compunction wrung tears from her eyes. This was real life in very truth. Here was a man ready to give up safe, luxurious existence, a career already successful, and face death for her. She knew him well enough to be sure that if he could wear her colors he would march away with the first regiment that would receive him. He was not a man to be influenced by little things, but yielded absolutely to the supreme impulses of his life. If she said the word, he would make good his promise with chivalrous, straightforward promptness, facing death, and all that death could then mean to him, with a light, half-jaunty courage characteristic of the ideal soldier. She had a secret wonder at herself that she could know all this and yet be so vividly conscious that what he asked could never be. Her womanly pity said yes; her woman's heart said no. He was eager to take her in his arms, to place the kiss of life-long loyalty on her lips; but in her very soul she felt that it would be almost sacrilege for him to touch her; since the divine impulse to yield, without which there can be no divine sanction, was absent.
She listened, not as a confused, frightened girl, while he spoke that which she had guessed before. Other men had sued, although none had spoken so eloquently or backed their words by such weight of character. Her trouble, her deep perplexity, was not due to a mere declaration, but was caused by her inability to answer him.
The conventional words which she would have spoken a few days before died on her lips. They would be an insult to this earnest man, who had the right to hope for something better. What was scarcely worse--for there are few emergencies in which egotism is wholly lost--she would appear at once to him and to herself in an odious light. Her course would be well characterized by the Irish servant's lover, for here was a man who from the very fineness of his nature, if wronged, might easily go to the devil.
His words echoed her thought, for her hesitation and the visible distress on her face led him to exclaim, in a voice tense with something like agony: ”O Marian, since you hesitate, hesitate longer. Think well before you mar--nay, spoil--my life. For G.o.d's sake don't put me off with some of the sham conventionalities current with society girls. I could stand anything better than that. I am in earnest; I have always been in earnest; and I saw from the first, through all your light, graceful disguises, that you were not a shallow, brainless, heartless creature,--that a n.o.ble woman was waiting to be wakened in your nature. Give me time; give yourself time. This is not a little affair that can be rounded off according to the present code of etiquette; it is a matter of life or death to me. Be more merciful than a rebel bullet.”
She buried her face in her hands and sobbed helplessly.
He was capable of feeling unknown depths of tenderness, but there was little softness in his nature. As he looked down upon her, his face grew rigid and stern. In her sobs he read his answer,--the unwillingness, probably the inability, of her heart to respond to his,--and he grew bitter as he thought of the past.
With the cold, quiet tones of one too strong, controlled, and well-bred to give way violently to his intense anger, he said: ”This is a different result from what you led me to expect. All your smiles end in these unavailing tears. Why did you smile so sweetly after you understood me, since you had nothing better in store? I was giving you the homage, the choice of my whole manhood, and you knew it. What were you giving me? Why did your eyes draw out my heart and soul? Do you think that such a man as I can exist without heart and soul? Did you cla.s.s me with Strahan, who can take a refusal as he would lose a game of whist? No, you did not.
I saw in your very eyes a true estimate of Strahan and all his kind. Was it your purpose to win a genuine triumph over a man who cared nothing for other women? Why then don't you enjoy it? You could not ask for anything more complete.”
”Trample on me--I deserve it,” she faltered.