ou surely do not reject me? But I am mad to think
it! Speak, darling! one word, one sign, one look from those dear eyes,
in consent to be the wife of Le Gardeur, will bring life's happiness to
us both!" He took her hand, and drew it gently from her eyes and kissed
it, but she still averted her gaze from him; she could not look at him,
but the words dropped slowly and feebly from her lips in response to his
appeal:

"I love you, Le Gardeur, but I will not marry you!" said she. She could
not utter more, but her hand grasped his with a fierce pressure, as if
wanting to hold him fast in the very moment of refusal.

He started back, as if touched by fire. "You love me, but will not
marry me! Angelique, what mystery is this? But you are only trying me!
A thousand thanks for your love; the other is but a jest,--a good jest,
which I will laugh at!" And Le Gardeur tried to laugh, but it was a sad
failure, for he saw she did not join in his effort at merriment, but
looked pale and trembling, as if ready to faint.

She laid her hands upon his heavily and sadly. He felt her refusal in
the very touch. It was like cold lead. "Do not laugh, Le Gardeur, I
cannot laugh over it; this is no jest, but mortal earnest! What I say I
mean! I love you, Le Gardeur, but I will not marry you!"

She drew her hands away, as if to mark the emphasis she could not speak.
He felt it like the drawing of his heartstrings.

She turned her eyes full upon him now, as if to look whether love of
her was extinguished in him by her refusal. "I love you, Le Gardeur--you
know I do! But I will not--I cannot--marry you now!" repeated she.

"Now!" he caught at the straw like a drowning swimmer in a whirlpool.
"Now? I said not now but when you please, Angelique! You are worth a
man's waiting his life for!"

"No, Le Gardeur!" she replied, "I am not worth your waiting for; it
cannot be, as I once hoped it might be; but love you I do and ever
shall!" and the false, fair woman kissed him fatuously. "I love you, Le
Gardeur, but I will not marry you!"

"You do not surely mean it, Angelique!" exclaimed he; "you will not give
me death instead of life? You cannot be so false to your own heart, so
cruel to mine? See, Angelique! My saintly sister Amelie believed in
your love, and sent these flowers to place in your hair when you
had consented to be my wife,--her sister; you will not refuse them,
Angelique?"

He raised his hand to place the garland upon her head, but An