Part 61 (1/2)

Lucy presented at this moment a strange contrast of calmness and agitation. Her bosom heaved quickly, and she was pale, but her voice was calm, and, though gentle, decided.

”I know you love me, Mr. Dodd, and I feared this. I have tried to save you the mortification of being declined by one who, in many things, is your inferior. I have even been rude and unkind to you. Forgive me for it. I meant it kindly. I regret it now. Mr. Dodd, I thank you for the honor you do me, but I cannot accept your love.” There was a pause, but David's tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth. He was not surprised, yet he was stupefied when the blow came.

At last he gasped out, ”You love some other man?”

Lucy was silent.

”Answer me, for pity's sake; give me something to help me.”

”You have no right to ask me such a question, but--I have no attachment, Mr. Dodd.”

”Ah! then one word more. Is it because you cannot love me, or because I am poor, and only first mate of an Indiaman?”

”_That_ I will not answer. You have no right to question a lady why she--Stay! you wish to despise me. Well, why not, if that will cure you of this unfortunate--Think what you please of me, Mr. Dodd,”

murmured Lucy, sadly.

”Ah! you know I can't,” cried David, despairingly.

”I know that you esteem me more than I deserve. Well, I esteem you, Mr. Dodd. Why, then, can we not be friends? You have only to promise me you will never return to this subject--come!”

”Me promise not to love you! What is the use? Me be your friend, and nothing more, and stand looking on at the heaven that is to be another's, and never to be mine? It is my turn to decline. Never.

Betrothed lovers or strangers, but nothing between! It would drive me mad. Away from you, and out of sight of your sweet face, I may make s.h.i.+ft to live, and go through my duty somehow, for my mother's and sister's sake.”

”You are wiser than I was, Mr. Dodd. Yes, we must part.”

”Of course we must. I have got my answer, and a kinder one than I deserve; and now what is the polite thing for me to do, I wonder?”

David said this with terrible bitterness.

”You frighten me,” sighed Lucy.

”Don't you be frightened, sweet angel; there! I have been used to obey orders all my life, and I am like a s.h.i.+p tossed in the breakers, and you are calm--calm as death. Give me my orders, for G.o.d's sake.”

”It is not for me to command you, Mr. Dodd. I have forfeited that right. But listen to her who still asks to be your friend, and she will tell you what will be best for you, and kindest and most generous to her.”

”Tell me about that last; the other is a waste of words.”

”I will, then. Your sister is somewhere in the neighborhood.”

”She is at ----; how did you know?”

”I saw her on your arm. I am glad she is so near--Oh, so glad! Bid my uncle and aunt good-by; make some excuse. Go to your sister at once.

_She_ loves you. She is better than I am, if you will but see us as we really are. Go to her at once,” faltered Lucy, who disliked Eve, and Eve her.

”I will! I will! I have thought too little of my own flesh and blood.

Shall I go now?”

”Yes,” murmured Lucy softly, trying to disarm the fatal word. ”Forget me--and--forgive me!” and, with this last word scarce audible, she averted her face, and held out her hand with angelic dignity, modesty and pity.