Thaddeus saw all this, and with a fluttering hope, instead of
surrendering the hand he had retained, he made it a yet closer
prisoner by clasping it in both his. Pressing it earnestly to his
breast, he said in a hurried voice, whilst his earnest eyes poured
all their beams upon her averted cheek, "Surely Miss Beaufort will
not deny me the dearest happiness I possess--the privilege of being
grateful to her?"
He paused: his soul was too full for utterance; and raising Mary's
hand from his heart to his lips, he kissed it fervently. Almost
fainting, Miss Beaufort leaned her head against a tree of the thicket
where they were standing. The thought of the confession which
Pembroke had extorted from her, and dreading that its fullness might
have been imparted to him, and that all this was rather the tribute
of gratitude than of love, she waved her other hand in sign for him
to leave her.
Such extraordinary confusion in her manner palsied the warm and
blissful emotions of the count. He, too, began to blame the sanguine
representation of his friend; and fearing that he had offended her,
that she might suppose he presumed on her kindness, he stood for a
moment in silent astonishment; then dropping on his knee, (hardly
conscious of the action,) declared in an agitated voice his sense of
having given this offence; at the same time he ventured to repeat,
with equally modest energy, the soul-devoted passion he had so long
endeavored to seal up in his lonely breast.
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