"I
came, with my father's permission, to take a last farewell
of him whose death has broken my heart. I expected to be
alone; but--Nay, do not go," she added, perceiving that
the officer was about to depart. "Had you not been here,
I should have sent for you; for we have both a sacred
duty to perform. May I not ask your hand?"
More and more dismayed at her collected manner, the young
officer gazed at her with the deepest sorrow depicted in
every line of his own countenance. He extended his hand,
and Clara, to his surprise, grasped and pressed it firmly.
"It was the wish of this poor boy that his Clara should
be the wife of his friend, Sir Everard. Did he ever
express such to you?"
"It was the fondest desire of his heart," returned the
baronet, unable to restrain the emotion of joy that
mingled, despite of himself, with his worst apprehensions.
"I need not ask how you received his proposal," continued
Clara, with the same calmness of manner. "Last night,"
she pursued solemnly, "I was the bride of the murderer
of my brother, of the lover of my mother,--tomorrow night
I may be the bride of death; but to-night I am the bride
of my brother's friend.
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