"Thou knowest all, now," continued Marie, after a pause, and she stood
before him with arms folded on her bosom, and an expression of meek
humility struggling with misery on her beautiful features. "Senor
Stanley, I need not now implore you to leave me; that look was
sufficient, say but you forgive the deception I have been compelled to
practise--and--and forget me. Remember what I am, and you will soon
cease to love."
"Never, never!" replied Stanley, as with passionate agony he flung
himself before her. "Come with me to my own bright land; who shall
know what thou art there? Marie, my own beloved, be mine. What to me
is race or blood? I see but the Marie I have loved, I shall ever love.
Come with me. Edward has made overtures of peace if I would return to
England. For thy sake I will live beneath his sway; be but mine, and
oh, we shall be happy yet."
"And my father," gasped the unhappy girl, for the generous nature of
Arthur's love rendered her trial almost too severe. "Wilt thou protect
him too? wilt thou for my sake forget what he is, and be to him a
son?" He turned from her with a stifled groan. "Thou canst not--I knew
it--oh bless thee for thy generous love; but tempt me no more, Arthur;
it cannot be; I dare not be thy bride."
"And yet thou speakest of love.
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