“Ronayne,” she mournfully interrupted--“your sudden interference with the dog--your struggle with him--nay, your very manner of speaking now, convince me that you knew my father lay buried beneath that rose-tree. In candor, answer me. Yes or no.”
“And, admitting I had had that knowledge, Maria--can you imagine no good reason for my forbearing all allusion to the subject?”
“Yet, why conceal the fact from one who had supposed you could have no concealment from her--and then again, how am I to reconcile the circumstance of my poor father having been reported to be a prisoner--a report which, sanctioned by yourself, left me not utterly hopeless--and the fact of his burial here--evidently with your knowledge.”
“Maria,” returned Ronayne, impressively, and with an expression of much pain at the remark, “as I have already said, I can make every allowance, in recollection of the painful scene of which I have, in some degree, been the cause, but is it generous--is it quite appreciating my character and my feelings towards yourself, to doubt that I had intended from the first, and at a fitting moment, to explain every thing to you?”
Again was the confidence of the generous girl established, and with almost passionate warmth, she exclaimed. “Oh! Ronayne, forgive--forgive me, but this melancholy--this harrowing occurrence has made me so far not myself--that I almost hate myself. Tell me, dear Ronayne, do you forgive me?”
“Yes, from the bottom of my soul, do I forgive you, and yet, dearest, there is nothing to forgive, for how could it be otherwise, than that your poor and sorely tried heart should be subjected to wild imaginings inexplicable to yourself. The ordeal to which you have been submitted, is a severe one, but I am sure your oppressed heart will be greatly lightened when you shall have been in possession of the truth connected with this most melancholy affair--your regard for me, will if possible, be even greater than before. Pardon this seeming vanity. I make the assertion because I know it will not a little console you, under this terrible infliction.”
It was a strange sight, that of these lovers, hitherto so devoted and now only temporarily half-doubting, talking of the fate of one parent while leaning over the apparent death-bed of the other.