It is _you_ who surprise me!" she added, suddenly raising her
voice. "You, who love me, are not one with me, when I am standing on the
brink of a new life. Good Heavens! are my interests not your interests in
this? Is it not worth your while to wait till I can _look at you_ when I
vow before God to love, honor, and obey you? Do you understand him?" she
asked, appealing abruptly to me. "Why does he try to start difficulties?
why is he not as eager about it as I am?"
I turned to Oscar. Now was the time for him to fall at her feet and own
it! Here was the golden opportunity that might never come again. I signed
to him impatiently to take it. He tried to take it--let me do him the
justice now, which I failed to do him at the time--he tried to take it.
He advanced towards her; he struggled with himself; he said, "There is a
motive for my conduct, Lucilla----" and stopped. His breath failed him;
he struggled again; he forced out a word or two more: "A motive," he went
on, "which I have been afraid to confess----" he paused again, with the
perspiration pouring over his livid face.
Lucilla's patience failed her. "What is your motive?" she asked sharply.
The tone in which she spoke broke down his last reserves of resolution.
He turned his head suddenly so as not to see her. At the final
moment--miserable, miserable man!--at the final moment, he took refuge in
an excuse.
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