I only know what the result has been. Before I met you I could have
offered to any woman, who thought it worth her acceptance, a healthy,
honest love; now--even if I could conquer my present infatuation--I
could only offer a feeling something warmer than friendship; to promise
more would be base treachery. Do you think I would stand by God's altar
with a worse lie than Ananias's on my lips? Is it nothing that, to
gratify your vanity or your whims, you should have condemned a man,
whose blood is not frozen yet, to something worse than widowhood for
life? My religion may be a false and vain idolatry; but it is all I have
to trust to. I will not stand patiently by and see the image that I have
bowed down to worship pilloried for the world to scorn. Now--do you deny
my right to interfere?"
His words had a rude energy, though little eloquence; but they came so
evidently from the depths of a strong, troubled heart, that they caused
a revulsion in Cecil's feelings; returning remorse bore down her
stubborn pride. Very low and plaintive was the whisper--"Ah! have
mercy--have mercy; you make me so unhappy;" but there came a more
piteous appeal from her eyes.
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