"Yes," said he, brightened by that buoyant look so remarkable in her
face; "and you will yet do more, Ermine. You have convinced me that we
shall be all the happier together--"
"But that was not what I meant to convince you of--" she said, faintly.
"Not what you meant, perhaps; but what it did convince me was, that
you--as you are, my Ermine--are ten thousand times more to me than even
as the beautiful girl, and that there never can be a happier pair than
we shall be when I am your hands and feet."
Ermine sat up, and rallied all her forces, choked back the swelling
of her throat, and said, "Dear Colin, it cannot be! I trusted you were
understanding that when I told you how it was with me."
He could not speak from consternation.
"No," she said; "it would be wrong in me to think of it for an instant.
That you should have done so, shows--O Colin, I cannot talk of it; but
it would be as ungenerous in me to consent, as it is noble of you to
propose it."
"It is no such thing," he answered; "it has been the one object and
thought of my life, the only hope I have had all these years."
"Exactly so," she said, struggling again to speak firmly; "and that is
the very thing. You kept your allegiance to the bright, tall, walking,
active girl, and it would be a shame in the scorched cripple to claim
it."
"Don't call yourself names. Have I not told you that you are more than
the same?"
"You do not know. You are pleased because my face is not burnt, nor
grown much older, and because I can talk and laugh in the same voice
still." (Oh, how it quivered!) "But it would be a wicked mockery in me
to pretend to be the wife you want. Yes, I know you think you do, but
that is just because my looks are so deceitful, and you have kept on
thinking about me; but you must make a fresh beginning."
"You can tell me that," he said, indignantly.
"Because it is not new to me," she said; "the quarter of an hour you
stood by me, with that deadly calm in your white face, was the real
farewell to the young hopeful dream of that bright summer. I wish it was
as calm now."
"I believed you dying then," answered he.
"Do not make me think it would have been better for you if I had been,"
she said, imploringly. "It was as much the end, and I knew it from the
time my recovery stopped short. I would have let you know if I could,
and then you would not have been so much shocked."