now hesitate,—now, in her Kate’s present
condition,—as to redeeming those vows of
marriage which he had made to her in her innocence,
would raise a fury in the mother’s bosom which
he feared to encounter. He got up and walked
about the room, while she stood with her eyes fixed
upon him, ever and anon reiterating her demand.
“No day must now be lost. When will you
make my child your wife?”
At last he made a proposition to which she assented.
The tidings which she had brought him had come upon
him very suddenly. He was inexpressibly pained.
Of course Kate, his dearest Kate, was everything to
him. Let him have that afternoon to think about
it. On the morrow he would assuredly visit Ardkill.
The mother, full of fears, resolving that should he
attempt to play her girl false and escape from her
she would follow him to the end of the world, but
feeling that at the present moment she could not constrain
him, accepted his repeated promise as to the following
day; and at last left him to himself.
Neville’s success.
Neville sat in his room alone, without moving, for
a couple of hours after Mrs. O’Hara had left
him. In what way should he escape from the misery
and ruin which seemed to surround him? An idea
did cross his mind that it would be better for him
to fly and write the truth from the comparatively
safe distance of his London club. But there would
be a meanness in such conduct which would make it impossible
that he should ever again hold up his head. The
girl had trusted to him, and by trusting to him had
brought herself to this miserable pass. He could
not desert her. It would be better that he should
go and endure all the vials of their wrath than that.
To her he would still be tenderly loving, if she would
accept his love without the name which he could not
give her. His whole life he would sacrifice to
her. Every luxury which money could purchase
he would lavish on her. He must go and make his
offer. The vials of wrath which would doubtless
be poured out upon his head would not come from her.
In his heart of hearts he feared both the priest and
the mother. But there are moments in which a man
feels himself obliged to encounter all that he most
fears;—and the man who does not do so in
such moments is a coward.
He quite made up his mind to start early on the following
morning; but the intermediate hours were very sad
and heavy, and his whole outlook into life was troublesome
to him. How infinitely better would it have been
for him had he allowed himself to be taught a twelvemonth
since that his duty required him to give up the army
at once! But he had made his bed, and now he
must lie upon it. There was no escape from this
journey to Ardkill. Even though he should be stunned
by their wrath he must endure it.
