t me go on--let me go on. You said it
costs me little to act as I proposed to act. Think, Sherbrooke, think
what it does really cost me. Even were I all selfishness, how bitter
is the part that I have assigned myself to play! To pass my time in
solitude, without the pleasures of youth and gaiety; debarring myself
from all the advantages of an unmarried woman, yet without the name,
the blessings, the station, the dignity, of a wife; voluntarily
depriving myself of every sort of consolation, relinquishing even
hope. But if I am not altogether selfish, Sherbrooke--and you have no
cause to say I am so--if, as you know too well, there is deep, and
permanent, and pure and true affection for you at the bottom of my
heart, judge what the after-hours of life will be, judge what a long
dreary lapse lies before me, between the present instant and the
grave."
Sherbrooke was moved, and again and again he assured her that he
loved her more than any other being upon earth; and the conversation
continued for nearly half an hour longer. He begged her to stay with
him in England, still concealing their marriage; he pressed her in
every way to break her resolution; he urged her, if it were but for
one week, to remain with him, in order to see whether he could not
make arrangements to render their marriage public. But she remembered
her resolution, and held to it firmly, and even rejected that last
proposal, fearing consequences equally dangerous to herself and to
him. Opposition began to make him angry; he entered not into her
reasons; he saw not the strength of her motives; he spoke some harsh
and unkind words, which caused her to weep, and then again he was
grieved at having pained her, and kissed the tears away, and urged
and argued again. Still she remained firm, however, and again he
became irritated.
At the end of half an hour, both Caroline and her husband heard the
sound of feet approaching them on both sides; and though it seemed
that the people who were coming from the direction of Plessis's house
walked lightly and with caution, yet there were evidently many of
them, and Caroline became alarmed for her husband.
"The people are coming from the house, Sherbrooke," she cried--"they
must not, oh, they must not find you here!"
"Why not?" he demanded, sharply.
"Oh, because they are a dangerous and a desperate set," she
said--"bent, I am sure, from what I have heard, upon bloody and
terrible schemes. Me they will let pass, but I fear for you--the very
name of your f