She was
more alarmed and shocked at the too literal fulfillment of her wish than
pleased to see him there. She shed tears for very shame. Whatever
reserve she had hitherto maintained, with respect to her affection for
him, had now, she perceived, been swept away by her own act. The scene
to which he had just been an unsuspected witness was more than
equivalent to a mere declaration of love: it was a leap-year offer of
her hand and heart. She had no strong-hold of Duty left to which to
betake herself, nor even a halting-place, such as coy maidens love to
linger at a little before they murmur, "I am yours."
There was nothing left her but revilings. She poured upon him a torrent
of contumely, reproaching him for his baseness, his cowardice, his
treachery in tracking her hither, like a spy, to overhear a confession
that should have been sacred with him of all men. Whatever that
confession might have been--and, to say truth, so utterly possessed had
she been by her passionate hopes, her loving yearnings, that she knew
not what she had merely felt, what uttered aloud--she now retracted it;
she had no tenderness for eaves-droppers, for deceivers, for--she did
not know what she was saying--for wicked young men. Above all things it
seemed necessary to be in a passion; to be as irritated and bitter
against him as possible.
Pages:
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245