He is
unutterably sad. He questions her very tenderly; asks her whether she is
not enforced; whether she is taking this step of her own free will and
accord; whether she has indeed dismissed the dear, old fond love for him
from her heart forever? He must hear it from her own lips. When timidly
and feebly informed that such is indeed the case, he requests her to
return a certain memento,--a silver trinket which had been given her as
the symbol of his love on the occasion of their betrothal. Raising her
hand to her throat she essays to draw it from her bosom. Her fingers
rest upon the chain which binds it to her neck, but the o'erfraught
heart is still,--the troubled, but unconscious head droops upon his
shoulder,--he lifts the chain from its resting-place, and withdraws the
token from her heart.
Supporting her with one hand and holding this badge of a lost love with
the other, he says, looking down upon her with a face of anguish, and in
a voice of despair, "_And she could wear it thus!_"
As this scene rose and lived before him, Surrey exclaimed, "Surely that
must have been the perfection of art, to have produced an effect so
lasting and profound,--'and she could wear it thus!'--ah," he said, as
in response to some unexpressed thought, "but Emily loved Ravenswood.
Why--?" Evidently he was endeavoring to answer a question that baffled
him.
CHAPTER XII
"_And down on aching heart and brain
Blow after blow unbroken falls.
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