English fiction -- 19th century; Tailors -- Fiction
'Rose!' he spoke with a passion that made her shrink, 'are you bound to
this man?' and to the drooping of her eyes, 'No. Impossible, for you do
not love him. Break it. Break the engagement you cannot fulfil. Break
it and belong to me. It sounds ill for me to say that in such a place.
But Rose, I will leave it. I will accept any assistance that your
father--that any man will give me. Beloved--noble girl! I see my
falseness to you, though I little thought it at the time--fool that I
was! Be my help, my guide-as the soul of my body! Be mine!'
'Oh, Evan!' she clasped her hands in terror at the change in him, that
was hurrying her she knew not whither, and trembling, held them
supplicatingly.
'Yes, Rose: you have taught me what love can be. You cannot marry that
man.'
'But, my honour, Evan! No. I do not love him; for I can love but one.
He has my pledge. Can I break it?'
The stress on the question choked him, just as his heart sprang to her.
'Can you face the world with me, Rose?'
'Oh, Evan! is there an escape for me? Think Decide!--No--no! there is
not. My mother, I know, looks on it so. Why did she trust me to be with
you here, but that she thinks me engaged to him, and has such faith in
me? Oh, help me!--be my guide. Think whether you would trust me
hereafter! I should despise myself.'
Not if you marry him!' said Evan, bitterly. And then thinking as men
will think when they look on the figure of a fair girl marching serenely
to a sacrifice, the horrors of which they insist that she ought to know:
half-hating her for her calmness--adoring her for her innocence: he said:
'It rests with you, Rose. The world will approve you, and if your
conscience does, why--farewell, and may heaven be your help.'
She murmured, 'Farewell.'
Did she expect more to be said by him? What did she want or hope for
now? And yet a light of hunger grew in her eyes, brighter and brighter,
as it were on a wave of yearning.
'Take my hand once,' she faltered.
Her hand and her whole shape he took, and she with closed eyes let him
strain her to his breast.
Their swoon was broken by the opening of the door, where Old Tom
Cogglesby and Lady Jocelyn appeared.
'Gad! he seems to have got his recompense--eh, my lady?' cried Old Tom.
However satisfactorily they might have explained the case, it certainly
did seem so.
Lady Jocelyn looked not absolutely displeased. Old Tom was chuckling at
her elbow. The two principal actors remained dumb.
'I suppose, if we leave young people to settle a thing, this is how they
do it,' her ladyship remarked.
'Gad, and they do it well!' cried Old Tom.
Rose, with a deep blush on her cheeks, stepped from Evan to her mother.
Not in effrontery, but earnestly, and as the only way of escaping from
the position, she said: 'I have succeeded, Mama. He will take what I
offer.'
'And what's that, now?' Old Tom inquired.
Rose turned to Evan. He bent and kissed her hand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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