“Would you really dare give me that advice,--you who had only to look at
Miss Brandon to lose your self-control so far as to overwhelm her with
insults?”
“Henrietta, I swear”--
“And this to such an extent, that father accused you of having done so
at my bidding. Ah, you have been very imprudent, Daniel!”
The unhappy man wrung his hands with despair. What punishment he had
to endure for a moment’s forgetfulness! He felt as if he had rendered
himself guilty already by not revealing the mean conduct of M. Elgin and
Mrs. Brian while Miss Brandon was driving about Paris. And now, at this
very hour, he was put into a still more difficult position, because he
could not even give a glimpse of the true state of things.
He said nothing; and Henrietta gloried in his silence.
“You see,” she said, “that if your heart condemns me, your reason and
your conscience approve of my decision.”
He made no reply, but, rising suddenly, he began to walk up and down in
the room like a wild beast searching for some outlet from the cage in
which it has been imprisoned. He felt he was caught, hemmed in on all
sides, and he could do nothing, nothing at all.
“Ah, we must surrender!” he exclaimed at last, overcome with grief; “we
must do it; we are almost helpless. Let us give up the struggle; reason
demands it. We have done enough; we have done our duty.”
All trembling with passion, he spoke on for some time, bringing up the
most conclusive arguments, one by one; while his love lent him all its
persuasive power. And at last it looked as if Henrietta’s determination
were giving way, and she began to hesitate. It was so; but she was
still struggling against her own emotion, and said in a half-suppressed
tone,--
“No doubt, Daniel, you think I am not yet wretched enough.”