"
"Nay," he said, very gently; "you need not go so high for a witness;
have I not seen?"
We fell silent upon that, and there, in the candle-yellowed gloom of our
dungeon harbor, I fought the fellest battle of my life; fought it and
won it, too, my dears, once and for all. There was a cold sweat on my
brow when I began in low tones to tell him the story of that fateful
night in June. At rising forty 'tis no light thing to lose a
friend--nay, to turn a friend's love into scorn and loathing and bitter
hatred.
He heard me through without a word; and at the end, when I looked to see
him spring up and bid me draw and let him have his one poor chance for
satisfaction, he still sat motionless, winking and staring at the
guttering candle. And when he spoke 'twas with a quivering of the lip
that was not of anger.
"Dear God," said he; "'tis I who stand in the way."
"No; for she loves you, Richard, as dearly as she hates me. And 'tis not
so hopeless now, else I had never screwed together the courage to tell
you all this. She has at last consented to the Church's undoing of the
incomplete marriage--'twas this she wrote me about when we were at the
Cowpens, and 'twas her letter that set me upon going to Winnsborough to
see the priest. I missed him there, as you know; but I am here now by
her own appointment to meet him in her father's house."
He shook his head slowly. "You've killed the hope in me, Jack. I do
think you are all at sea; 'tis you she loves--not me.
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