'Tis false, thou canst not love me,"
and Stanley sprung to his feet disappointed, wounded, till he scarce
knew what he said. "I would give up Spain and her monarch's love for
thee. I would live in slavery beneath a tyrant's rule to give thee a
home of love. I would forget, trample on, annihilate the prejudices
of a life, unite the pure blood of Stanley with the darkened torrent
running through thy veins, forget thy race, descent, all but thine own
sweet self. I would do this, all this for love of thee. And for
me, what wilt thou do?--reject me, bid me leave thee--and yet thou
speakest of love: 'tis false, thou lovest another better!"
"Ay!" replied Marie, in a tone which startled him, "ay, thou hast
rightly spoken; thy words have recalled what in this deep agony I had
well nigh forgotten. There is a love, a duty stronger than that I bear
to thee. I would resign all else, but not my father's God."
The words were few and simple; but the tone in which they were spoken
recalled Arthur's better nature, and banished hope at once. A pause
ensued, broken only by the young man's hurried tread, as he traversed
the little platform in the vain struggle for calmness. On him this
blow had fallen wholly unprepared; Marie had faced it from the moment
they had parted fifteen months before, and her only prayer had been (a
fearful one for a young and loving heart), that Stanley would forget
her, and they might never meet again.
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