Going to Clara and intercepting
her as she was about to leave the room, he gently took her hand and,
dropping his eyes to the floor with a look of humility and
penitence, he said:
"Clara, my sweet cousin, I know not how sufficiently to express my
sorrow at having been hurried into harshness toward you--toward you
whom I love more than my own soul, and whom it is the fondest wish
of my heart to call wife. I can only excuse myself for this or any
future extravagance of manner by my excessive love for you and the
jealousy that maddens my brain at the bare mention of my rival. That
is it, sweet girl. Can you forgive one whom love and jealousy have
hurried into frenzy?"
"Mr. Le Noir, the Bible enjoins me to forgive injuries. I shall
endeavor, when I can, to forgive you, though for the present my
heart is still burning under the sense of wrongs done toward myself
and those whom I love and esteem, and the only way in which you can
make me forget what has just passed will be--never to repeat the
offence." And with these words Clara bent her head and passed from
the room.
Could she have seen the malignant scowl and gesture with which
Craven Le Noir followed her departure, she would scarcely have
trusted his expressions of penitence.
Lifting his arm above his head he fiercely shook his fist after her
and exclaimed:
"Go on, insolent girl, and imagine that you have humbled me; but the
tune shall be changed by this day month, for before that time
whatever power the law gives the husband over his wife and her
property shall be mine over you and your possessions.
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