"What is that?" And Jean's dark eyes were fixed upon him, full of
innocent wonder.
His fell, and he said hastily, "I dare not tell you yet."
"Pardon! I should not have asked. Do not consult me in this matter; I am
not the person to advise you. I can only say that it seems to me as if
any man with an empty heart would be glad to have so beautiful a woman
as your cousin."
"My heart is not empty," began Coventry, drawing a step nearer, and
speaking in a passionate voice. "Jean, I must speak; hear me. I cannot
love my cousin, because I love you."
"Stop!" And Jean sprang up with a commanding gesture. "I will not hear
you while any promise binds you to another. Remember your mother's
wishes, Lucia's hopes, Edward's last words, your own pride, my humble
lot. You forget yourself, Mr. Coventry. Think well before you speak,
weigh the cost of this act, and recollect who I am before you insult me
by any transient passion, any false vows."
"I have thought, I do weigh the cost, and I swear that I desire to woo
you as humbly, honestly as I would any lady in the land. You speak of my
pride. Do I stoop in loving my equal in rank? You speak of your lowly
lot, but poverty is no disgrace, and the courage with which you bear it
makes it beautiful. I should have broken with Lucia before I spoke, but
I could not control myself. My mother loves you, and will be happy in my
happiness. Edward must forgive me, for I have tried to do my best, but
love is irresistible. Tell me, Jean, is there any hope for me?"
He had seized her hand and was speaking impetuously, with ardent face
and tender tone, but no answer came, for as Jean turned her eloquent
countenance toward him, full of maiden shame and timid love, Dean's prim
figure appeared at the door, and her harsh voice broke the momentary
silence, saying, sternly, "Miss Beaufort is waiting for you, sir."
"Go, go at once, and be kind, for my sake, Gerald," whispered Jean, far
he stood as if deaf and blind to everything but her voice, her face.
As she drew his head down to whisper, her cheek touched his, and
regardless of Dean, he kissed it, passionately, whispering back, "My
little Jean! For your sake I can be anything."
"Miss Beaufort is waiting. Shall I say you will come, sir?" demanded
Dean, pale and grim with indignation.
"Yes, yes, I'll come. Wait for me in the garden, Jean." And Coventry
hurried away, in no mood for the interview but anxious to have it over.
As the door closed behind him, Dean walked up to Miss Muir, trembling
with anger, and laying a heavy hand on her arm, she said below her
breath, "I've been expecting this, you artful creature. I saw your game
and did my best to spoil it, but you are too quick for me. You think
you've got him. There you are mistaken; for as sure as my name is Hester
Dean, I'll prevent it, or Sir John shall."