clasped me in a passionate embrace.
'Marry me,' he murmured. 'You alone can save me! We will run away—elope.'
The words sobered me like a dash of cold water. I struggled feebly; but Fernando's passion had given strength to his slight frame. His arm tightened and his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.
'Come away with me. I love you—adore you!'
'I don't know,' I gasped, quite overcome by his burning eyes. 'I can't think—'
'Think! This is not the time for thinking! Tell me you will be mine! Tell me, or...'
Again the small bottle went to his lips.
'No, not that,' I cried. 'Very well. I agree. Anything but that!'
'Ah.'
Fernando released me. I staggered back, covering my face with my hands. Through my fingers I saw Fernando carefully cork the bottle and return it to his pocket. He reached for me and gently pulled my hands from my face.
It was a kiss quite unlike the other, tentative touches of lips we had exchanged; it was long and intense and—but I really cannot remember it, even now, without blushing. Even more embarrassing to recall is the response it roused in me. I found myself kissing him back. My arms held him tightly; my body pressed against his.
When his mouth released mine, I was limp. Clinging to him, I heard his whisper in my ear.
'I will return. We will make our plans. It must be soon, before that gentleman of title carries you off. My treasure! You will not regret, I promise.'
He kissed me again, completing the process the first kiss had begun; when he was finished, I would have fallen if he had not placed me tenderly in a chair. Through hazed eyes I saw him walk to the door—pause, to kiss his hand to me—and then disappear. He walked like a conqueror, and the slam of the door had a distinctly triumphant sound.
I was not quite the young fool I ought to have been, considering my lack of worldly experience. My aunt's caustic comments about fortune hunters and my wretched ten thousand a year had awakened suspicions. But—those kisses! And those mild blue eyes and waving golden locks! And my mistrust of Clare, my dislike of my aunt___It was all too confusing. I didn't know what I wanted to do; I only knew that, whatever I did, someone was going to be dreadfully angry with me.
Next day a package was delivered to the house. It was mad of Fernando to risk it, though the contents were anonymous—a small gold ring, obviously antique, with the scarcely distinguishable crest of a noble house. (Fernando had told me he was descended from Tuscan aristocrats.)
I had the fiend's own time with that ring. Obviously I could not wear it, even if it had not been far too large for my finger, nor could I hang it about my neck on a chain, not with Mary watching me dress and disrobe. In the end I tossed it into a trinket case among other minor pieces of jewelry and prayed it would escape the inquisitive eyes of my maid. It did what Fernando no doubt hoped it would do—it gave me a sense of being bound, by obligation if not by love.
Matters became even more complex when, later that week, I received my second proposal.
I was in a terrible state of mind by then. My aunt had suddenly decided I needed no more lessons on the harp. It was one of those situations that are so comical on the stage and so agonizing in real life. Lady Russell had no actual suspicion of what was going on, but years of cynical experience had given her a kind of sixth sense. So she acted by instinct rather than knowledge and I, of course, assumed she knew the truth and chose not to speak of it in order to torment me with uncertainty.
Guilty and confused, unable to communicate with Fernando; visualizing him lying pale and cold on his bed with the little bottle clutched in his stiffening hand; missing his passionate kisses—and at the same time resenting his peremptory wooing—my state of mind can be imagined. When Clare finally did declare himself, I only stared at him dumbly.
The parlor was dark, lit by the flickering flames of the fire
'Marry me,' he murmured. 'You alone can save me! We will run away—elope.'
The words sobered me like a dash of cold water. I struggled feebly; but Fernando's passion had given strength to his slight frame. His arm tightened and his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.
'Come away with me. I love you—adore you!'
'I don't know,' I gasped, quite overcome by his burning eyes. 'I can't think—'
'Think! This is not the time for thinking! Tell me you will be mine! Tell me, or...'
Again the small bottle went to his lips.
'No, not that,' I cried. 'Very well. I agree. Anything but that!'
'Ah.'
Fernando released me. I staggered back, covering my face with my hands. Through my fingers I saw Fernando carefully cork the bottle and return it to his pocket. He reached for me and gently pulled my hands from my face.
It was a kiss quite unlike the other, tentative touches of lips we had exchanged; it was long and intense and—but I really cannot remember it, even now, without blushing. Even more embarrassing to recall is the response it roused in me. I found myself kissing him back. My arms held him tightly; my body pressed against his.
When his mouth released mine, I was limp. Clinging to him, I heard his whisper in my ear.
'I will return. We will make our plans. It must be soon, before that gentleman of title carries you off. My treasure! You will not regret, I promise.'
He kissed me again, completing the process the first kiss had begun; when he was finished, I would have fallen if he had not placed me tenderly in a chair. Through hazed eyes I saw him walk to the door—pause, to kiss his hand to me—and then disappear. He walked like a conqueror, and the slam of the door had a distinctly triumphant sound.
I was not quite the young fool I ought to have been, considering my lack of worldly experience. My aunt's caustic comments about fortune hunters and my wretched ten thousand a year had awakened suspicions. But—those kisses! And those mild blue eyes and waving golden locks! And my mistrust of Clare, my dislike of my aunt___It was all too confusing. I didn't know what I wanted to do; I only knew that, whatever I did, someone was going to be dreadfully angry with me.
Next day a package was delivered to the house. It was mad of Fernando to risk it, though the contents were anonymous—a small gold ring, obviously antique, with the scarcely distinguishable crest of a noble house. (Fernando had told me he was descended from Tuscan aristocrats.)
I had the fiend's own time with that ring. Obviously I could not wear it, even if it had not been far too large for my finger, nor could I hang it about my neck on a chain, not with Mary watching me dress and disrobe. In the end I tossed it into a trinket case among other minor pieces of jewelry and prayed it would escape the inquisitive eyes of my maid. It did what Fernando no doubt hoped it would do—it gave me a sense of being bound, by obligation if not by love.
Matters became even more complex when, later that week, I received my second proposal.
I was in a terrible state of mind by then. My aunt had suddenly decided I needed no more lessons on the harp. It was one of those situations that are so comical on the stage and so agonizing in real life. Lady Russell had no actual suspicion of what was going on, but years of cynical experience had given her a kind of sixth sense. So she acted by instinct rather than knowledge and I, of course, assumed she knew the truth and chose not to speak of it in order to torment me with uncertainty.
Guilty and confused, unable to communicate with Fernando; visualizing him lying pale and cold on his bed with the little bottle clutched in his stiffening hand; missing his passionate kisses—and at the same time resenting his peremptory wooing—my state of mind can be imagined. When Clare finally did declare himself, I only stared at him dumbly.
The parlor was dark, lit by the flickering flames of the fire
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