"
"I know nothing for which any one could desire oblivion."
"Thanks. Let me speak to you, then, of a matter which should have been
long since proposed to you had I been permitted the opportunity. I love
your daughter. I cannot speak about that, but you will understand all
that I wish to say. I have twice--once by letter, once by speech--let
her know this and my desire to call her wife. She has twice
refused,--absolutely. You think this should cut off all hope?"
Ercildoune had been watching him closely. "If she does not love you," he
answered, at the pause.
"I do not know. I went away from here a little while ago with her
peremptory command not to return. I should not have dared disobey it had
I not learned--thought--in fact, but for some circumstances--I beg your
pardon--I do not know what I am saying. I believed if I saw her once
more I could change her determination,--could induce her to give me
another response,--and came with that hope."
"Which has failed?"
"Which has thus far failed that she will not at all see me; will hold no
communication with me. I should be a ruffian did I force myself on her
thus without excuse or reason. My own love would be no apology did I not
think, did I not dare to hope, that it is not aversion to me that
induces her to act as she has done. Believing so, may I beg a favor of
you? may I entreat that you will induce her to see me, if only for a
little while?"
Ercildoune smiled a sad, bitter smile, as he answered, "Mr.
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