Part 16 (2/2)
His voice became choked by a sob he vainly strove to keep back. He felt his resolution giving way, and bit his lip.
”If--if you would remain my friend, Liane, you will marry,” he managed to e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e at last, although the words seemed to stifle him, and he hated himself for having uttered them.
”No, dad--I will never allow you to live alone.”
”But you must, dearest,” he answered with emphasis, fondly pus.h.i.+ng back her dark hair from her brow. ”Think what a chance you now have of securing position, wealth and everything which contributes to life's happiness. Zertho loves you.”
”I know,” she answered, with a touch of ineffable sadness in her voice and raising her tear-stained face to his. ”But I am happy as I am, with you.”
”True. Yet in a few months the money we have will become exhausted, and whence we shall obtain more I know not,” he said with a look of despair.
”You have a chance to become a princess--the wife of a man even wealthier than his sovereign--therefore you should seriously reflect, Liane, ere you refuse.”
”How did you know that Zertho loves me?” she suddenly inquired, turning her frank face upward to his.
”Because he has told me,” he answered, in a voice low almost as a whisper. ”He asked my permission to speak to you and offer you marriage.”
As he looked at her the thought flashed across his mind that he, her father, who loved her so dearly, was deceiving her. What would she say if she knew the truth?
”Yes,” she exclaimed with a sigh, ”he says that he loves me, and has asked me to become his wife. But I have refused.”
”Why?”
”Because I do not, I cannot love him, dad. Surely you would never wish me to marry a man for whom I have no affection, and in whom I have no trust.” Her father held his breath and evaded her gaze. Her argument was una.s.sailable. The words stabbed his tortured conscience.
”But would not the fact of your becoming Princess d'Auzac place you in a position of independence such as thousands of women would envy?” he hazarded, again stroking her silky hair with tenderness. ”You know Zertho well. He's a good fellow and would make you an excellent husband, no doubt.”
”I can never marry him,” she answered, decisively.
”You will refuse his offer?” he observed, hoa.r.s.ely. Her firmness was causing him some anxiety.
”I have already refused,” she replied.
Slowly he grasped her hand, and after a brief pause looked her steadily in the face, saying--
”Liane, you must become his wife.”
”I love but one man, dad, and cannot love another,” she sobbed pa.s.sionately, her arms still about his neck.
”Forget him.”
She remained silent a few moments; then, at last looking up with calm, inquiring gaze, asked--
”Why are you so earnestly persuading me to marry this man who is neither your true friend nor mine, dad? What object can you have in urging me to do what can only bring me grief and dire unhappiness?”
He made no reply. His face, she noticed, had grown hard and cold; he was entirely unlike himself.
”I love George,” she went on. ”I will only marry him.”
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