She kept with me for more than an hour, begging and entreating; but
she could not move me. I was contending for what was dearer to me than
life, and an old woman's worldly arguments could not make me false to
myself and to my love. She tempted me too--offered me money to leave
the town. After that, I was silent; I would speak to her no more upon
the subject. When she had exhausted herself, and rose to go, I opened
the door for her; and before she went out, I thanked her for her
hospitality to me, and expressed my regret that I should have been the
means of causing her pain. She made no reply; but I fancied I saw a
pitying expression on her face as she passed out.
I was overwhelmed by despair, and might have been guilty of I don't
know what extravagance, had not my darling foreseen my misery, and
provided against it. Within an hour of the departure of Alice's aunt,
a note was given to me by my landlady. It was from my darling herself.
She knew her aunt's errand; she knew that I was true to her; and she
told me not to lose heart, for she was mine, and mine only, and would
be true to me till death. Truly, those words were like oil upon the
troubled waters; my mind was instantly composed, and a deep peace and
joy fell upon me. The last words of her little note were to the effect
that she would find means to write to me again soon; and she begged me
not to go away until she saw me.
So I waited, and grew strong; and time passed, until there came an
evening when we met--met never to part again. It was a solemn meeting;
there was no hesitation on one side, or entreaty on the other. We
walked up and down in the rear of a wood-side inn; and my landlady,
whom I had asked to accompany me, stood a little distance from us. My
darling told me that her family were about to take her to the
Continent, and that she saw no way of resisting. "There is one," I
said. And as I said this, I stood by the side of an old elm, and she
stood with drooping head before me. "There is one. We are pledged to
each other till death. If I parted from you now in the belief that we
should not meet again, I would pray to God to end my life here where I
stand."
"Tell me what I shall do," she answered, "and I will do it."
"Follow me," I said. "Share my life, hard though it may be. Be mine,
as I am yours. Let us walk together till death, and after it."
She placed her hand in mine, and answered me in the words of Ruth, and
I folded her to my breast, and kissed her.
So, accompanied by my landlady, we turned our backs to the town where
we first met, and the next day we were married.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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