If I insist, he'll say Yes, and
deceive me. If I go a step further, and see him on board ship with my
own eyes, he'll slip off in the pilot's boat, and sneak back secretly to
you. That's his disposition."
"No!" said Magdalen. "It's not his disposition; it's his love for Me."
"Call it what you like," retorted Mr. Clare. "Sneak or Sweetheart
--he's too slippery, in either capacity, for my fingers to hold him.
My shutting the door won't keep him from coming back. Your shutting the
door will. Have you the courage to shut it? Are you fond enough of him
not to stand in his light?"
"Fond! I would die for him!"
"Will you send him to China?"
She sighed bitterly.
"Have a little pity for me," she said. "I have lost my father; I have
lost my mother; I have lost my fortune--and now I am to lose Frank. You
don't like women, I know; but try to help me with a little pity. I don't
say it's not for his own interests to send him to China; I only say it's
hard--very, very hard on _me_."
Mr. Clare had been deaf to her violence, insensible to her caresses,
blind to her tears; but under the tough integument of his philosophy
he had a heart--and it answered that hopeless appeal; it felt those
touching words.
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