King of the Castle

“Yes,” she said gently, “you have been very patient with me, I know.”

“Because I dared to hope that the time might come when I could speak to you as I do now. You know how I love you, and – forgive me for saying what I do – you know how my happiness is in your hands. Tell me to be patient even now, and I will wait.”

Her wild fixed look intensified as she listened to his impassioned prayer, for she saw only the face of her father as she had seen him last in life.

“I hardly dare to say the words,” he went on; “it seems like putting pressure on one whom I want to love me of herself, to make me happy by her own gentle confession; but I must speak now, even if it gives you pain. Claude, dearest, it was his wish. Tell me you will be my wife.”

He uttered his last sentence or two in a hesitating whisper.

“You heard what I said, dearest?” he whispered.

“Yes – yes,” said Claude dreamily.

“You will not hold me off longer. Claude, dearest, what can I say to move you? Is it to be always thus?”

She looked at him wildly for a few moments, and he was about to speak again, but her lips moved, and she said slowly —

“You say it would make you happy?”

“Happy?” he exclaimed passionately, “oh, if I had but words to tell you all.”

“Hush!” she said, slowly withdrawing her hand. “Six months ago I thought I saw my course marked out for me; but now all appears changed. You know how, long before we ever met – ”

“Yes,” he cried eagerly, “I know everything you would say, but, Claude, dearest, it is impossible. If that was to make you happy, I would have gone away, and patiently borne all, but it is impossible.”

“Yes,” she said, shuddering slightly, “it is impossible.”

“Then you will let me hope?” he cried quickly.

“It was my dear father’s wish,” she said dreamily; “I have thought of this, and what was my duty, left as I am, his child and the steward of his great wealth.”

“Yes – yes!” he cried excitedly.

“It was all darkness – black, black darkness for a time, but by slow degrees the light has come.”

“Claude, my love!”

“Oh, hush: pray hush!” she said with a slight shiver as she gazed straight past her wooer at the photograph upon the table. “It was his wish; and if you desire this, Parry Glyddyr, I will try to be your true and faithful wife.”

“My own!” he whispered, and he tried to pass his arm around her, but she shrank back with so pained a look that he forbore. “There,” he said, “I will be patient. I have waited all these long months, and I know now how your love for me will come. I can wait. But, Claude, let me go away quite happy. How soon?”

“It was his wish.”

“In a month from now?” he whispered tenderly.

“Yes,” she said, still gazing past him at the photograph.

“My own!” he cried, “I had not dared to hope for this. But, Claude, dearest, why do you look so strange?”

He felt as if a hand of ice had touched him, and his own closed upon hers with a spasmodic grip, as he looked sharply round and saw the photograph, the counterfeit presentment gazing sternly in his eyes.

But Claude was too intent upon her own thoughts to notice his ghastly pallor, and, uttering a low sigh, she at last withdrew her hand.

“Do not say more to me now, Mr Glyddyr,” she sighed faintly. “I am weak. The shock of coming back here has been almost more than I can bear. You will go now. Do not think me unkind and cold, but you will leave me till to-morrow.”

“Yes, yes,” he cried huskily, as he forced himself to take her hand which felt like ice, and, bending over it, he pressed his lips upon the clear transparent skin. “Yes, till to-morrow,” he said; and, carefully keeping his eyes averted from the photograph, he walked quickly from the room.

“Claude! Claude!” cried Mary entering, but there was no reply. “Claude!” and she laid her hand upon the girl’s shoulder, to start back in alarm at the waxen face that was slowly turned towards her. “Claude, darling, don’t look like that. Tell me. He did ask you?”

Claude nodded.

“And you refused him?”

She shook her head sadly.

“Oh, Claude!” cried Mary reproachfully. “And poor Chris!”

“Silence!” said Claude excitedly. “Never mention his name again.”

“But you can’t – you don’t think that horrible charge was true?”

“I think it was, my dear – my dead father’s wish that I should wed Mr Glyddyr. I have prayed for strength to carry out his will.”

“And you have accepted him!”

“Mary, a woman cannot live for herself. It was my duty. In a month I shall be Parry Glyddyr’s wife.”

Volume Three – Chapter Thirteen.

A Strange Wooing

Chris Lisle heard the news without showing the slightest emotion, and as soon as he was alone he sat down and wrote as follows: —

“I pray God that you may be happy.

“Chris Lisle.”

That was all, and he dropped it into the post-box himself, turned back to meet Trevithick on his way to the Fort, nodded to him and went straight to his room, where he stood for a few moments in silence.

“Yes,” he said slowly and solemnly, “I pray God that you may be happy.”

Then, after a pause:

“But,” he cried, with terrible earnestness, “if – ”

There was another pause in which he silently continued that which he might have said. Then, with a fierce light flashing from his eyes, he clenched his hands and said in a whisper more startling than the loudest words —

“I’ll kill him as I would some venomous beast.”