A Fair Emigrant, Chapter XXXVI-XXXVIII [pp. 485-508]

A FAIR EMIGRANT.
almost forgotten. Marry me, Bawn, and trust me. No one
save myself shall ever know that Arthur Desmond was your
father."
Bawn's lips and eye-lids trembled, but she kept her attitude
of aloofness and shook her head.
"You do not trust me."
"I cannot trust either you or myself so far. I dare not put
either of us in such an unnatural position. I fear there would
come a day when I should see something in your eyes-should
see you ask yourself,' Why is the daughter of a murderer sitting
at my fireside?' and I do not so trust myself as to feel sure that I
should not get up and fly from you in a despair which even now
I can realize. When I go away from you, as I shall go soon, I
shall at least take with me a sweet memory to live with all my
life, and the knowledge that I have not destroyed your happiness.
I shall not.leave you bound to a horror from which you cannot
escape."
"You have no knowledge of what you may leave me bound
to. If you can imagine a despair you could not brave, why so
can I. As for the change in me you fear might come with the
future, that is nothing but a foolish scare. You would never see
anything in my eyes but what you see now-love, tenderness,
worship of yourself, admiration of your brave efforts, pity for
what you have suffered. Bawn-"
She breathed a long sigh, and let her hand remain in his grasp
for a few moments while she looked in his eyes with a wistful,
far-seeing gaze, and then drew it slowly away and again retreated a step or two.
"Could I, for my own selfish happiness, consent to live denying, ignoring my father's memory, sinking my own knowledge
of his goodness and innocence and the testimony I could bear
to them? Could I hear his story alluded to, hear him spoken of
as a guilty man, and never cry out? It could not be. You
must let me go."
"I will not let you go." His eyes flashed, and he advanced
towards her; but she suddenly threw out both her hands and
pushed him away, then turned and disappeared into her little
parlor, closing the door behind her.
Rory, not venturing to follow her, walked up and down the
kitchen trying to calm his agitation, and with a faint hope that
she might return. But she made no sign. Then he threw on
his wet ulster again and went out of the house into the storm.
506
[July,