him her hand.
Then the tender thoughts which had lain so deep in his heart flew to his lips, and he wooed her with a fervour and nobility as astonishing to himself as to Charlotte. He reminded her of all the sweet intercourse of their happy lives, and of the fidelity with which he had loved her. “When I was a lad ten years old, and saw you first in your mother's arms, I called you then my little wife. Oh, my Charlotte, my sweet Charlotte! Who is there that can take you from me?”
“Sir Edward, like a brother to me you have been. Like a dear brother, I love you. But your wife to be! That is not the same. Ask me not that.”
“Only that can satisfy me, Charlotte. Do you think I will ever give you up? Not while I live.”
“No one will I marry. With my father and my mother I will stay.”
“Yes, till you learn to love me as I love you, with the whole soul.” He drew her close to his side, and bent tenderly to her face.
“No, you shall not kiss me, Sir Edward,—never again. No right have you, Sir Edward.”
“You are to be my wife, Charlotte?”
“That I have not said.”
She drew herself from his embrace, and stood leaning against an elm-tree, watchful of Sir Edward, full of wonder at the sudden warmth of his love, and half fearful of his influence over her.
“But you have known it, Charlotte, ay, for many a year. No words could make the truth-plight truer. From this hour, mine and only mine.”
“Such things you shall not say.”
“I will say them before all the world. Charlotte, is it true that good for nothing scoundrel is wearing a bow of your ribbon? You must tell me.”
“What mean you?”
“I will make my meaning plain. Is Harleigh Daly wearing a bow of your orange ribbon?”
“Can I tell?”
“Yes. Do not lie to me.”
“A lie I would not speak.”
“Did you give him one? Yes an orange one!”
“Yes. A bow of my Christmas ribbon I gave him.”
“Why?”
“Me he loves, and him I love.”
“And he wears it at his breast?”
“On his breast I have seen it. Sir Edward, do not quarrel with him. Do not look so angry. I fear you. My fault it is; all my fault, Sir Edward. Only to please me he wears it.”
“You have more Christmas ribbons?”
“That is so.”
“Go and get me one. Get a bow, Charlotte, and give it to me. I will wait here for it.”
“No, that I will not do. How false, how wicked I would be, if two lovers my colors wore!”
“Charlotte, I am in great earnest. A bow of that ribbon I must have. Get one for me.”
“My hands I would cut off first.”
“Well, then, I will cut my bow from Harleigh's breast. I will, though I cut his heart out with it.”
He turned from her as he said the words, and, without speaking to Joris, passed through the garden-gate to his own home. His mother and Mrs. Gordon, and several young ladies and gentlemen were sitting on the stoop, arranging for a turtle feast on the East River; and Sir Edward's advent was hailed with ejaculations of pleasure. He affected to listen for a few minutes, and then excused himself upon the “assurance of having some very important writing to attend to.” But, as he passed the parlor door, his father called him. The elder was casting up some kirk accounts; but, as Sir Edward answered the summons, he carefully put the extinguisher on one candle, and turned his chair from the table in a way which Sir Edward understood as an invitation for his company.
A moment's reflection convinced Sir Edward that it was his wisest plan to accede. It was of the utmost importance that his father should be kept absolutely ignorant of his quarrel with Harleigh; for Sir Edward was certain that, if he suspected their intention to fight, he would invoke the aid of the law to preserve peace, and such a course would infallibly subject him to suspicions which would be worse than death to his proud spirit.
“Well, Sir Edward, my dear lad, you are early home. Where were you the night?”
“I have just left Charlotte, sir, having followed your advice in my wooing. I wish I had done so earlier.”
“Ay, ay; when a man is seventy years old, he has read the book of life, specially the chapters about women, and he knows all about them. A bonnie lass expects to have