Page:Paul Clifford Vol 3.djvu/324

316 felt,—(though here his knowledge was necessarily confused and imperfect,)—his birth was not unequal to hers—now that he read, or believed he read, in her wan cheek and attenuated frame, that desertion to her was death, and that generosity and self-sacrifice had become too late,—perhaps, these thoughts concurring with a love in himself beyond all words, and a love in her which it was above humanity to resist, altogether conquered and subdued him. Yet, as we have said, his voice breathed calmly in her ear, and his eye only, which brightened with a steady and resolute hope, betrayed his mind. "Live then!" said he, as he concluded. "My sister, my mistress, my bride, live! in one year from this day ... ... I repeat .... I promise it thee!"

The interview was over, and Lucy returned home with a firm step. She was on foot: the rain fell in torrents; yet, even in her precarious state, her health suffered not; and when within a week from that time she read that Clifford had departed to the bourne of his punishment, she read the news with a steady eye and a lip that, if it grew paler, did not quiver.