“Oh, my God, can one’s own kin be so heartless? To send him to death, who is more than life to me! What has he done?—what injury to you? He only fought for the prince in whose right he believed. Had his side won, _he_ would have been merciful. What harm will it do you to let him go?—what harm to the kingdom, now the rebellion is put down? ’Tis profitless, ’tis needless, ’twill serve nothing, that he should die.—Oh, heaven, soften my uncle’s heart!—let him see as I see, feel as I feel!” Foxwell, little relishing these vehement appeals, or the sight of the kneeling girl with supplicating hands, turned to Everell: “Sir, this can accomplish nothing. I will leave you with her till the appointed time—though perhaps it were more kind to—” “No, no!” cried Georgiana, grasping her uncle’s coat-skirt as he made to step back into the drawing-room. “Do not go!—uncle, hear me! Anything for his life!—only his life! I will do anything, give anything—only that he may not die!” Foxwell looked down at her. The birth of a thought showed on his face, clearing away his frown of annoyance. Again he turned to Everell, and said, quietly: “Sir, will you grant me a few minutes alone with my niece? The time shall be made up after, if you choose.” Everell stood hesitating. “Go, Everell,” said Georgiana, eagerly; “’tis for our advantage.” “I pray it may be for yours, sweet,” replied Everell, gently, and went into the library, closing the door after him. Lady Strange, conceiving herself not wanted, would have passed Foxwell to retire to the drawing-room; but he softly closed that door, and said: “Nay, Lady Strange, don’t go. I had as lief you heard this. Georgiana, you ask for this gentleman’s life: now if that were all—” He paused for effect. “All!” echoed Georgiana, now risen to her feet; “’tis everything! I ask no more. You will grant it, then?—you will make me happy?” “If you would indeed be content with that—and his freedom—” Foxwell still seemed to halt in doubt. “I will be,” Georgiana declared, emphatically; “only say he shall live.” “If you would abandon any dreams you may have entertained of marriage—of future meetings with him—of correspondence, in the event of my saving him from the gallows—” “I will abandon whatever you require,—only to know that he goes free, only to feel that somewhere in the world he lives!” “Well,” said Foxwell, slowly, “I will let him go free—” Georgiana uttered a cry of joy. “—if,” continued Foxwell, “you will accept the proposal—the very advantageous proposal—which Mr. Thornby has done you the honour of making.” “Accept the proposal—of Mr. Thornby?” repeated Georgiana, in utter surprise. “Yes—give your consent to the marriage, of your own free will, letting it be clear that there has been no force or compulsion to influence you.” “But,” Georgiana faltered, looking distressedly toward the door by which Everell had left the room, “I cannot love Mr. Thornby.”