From
childhood she had been inured to danger, and had never suffered
harm; therefore, Cap, like the Chevalier Bayard, was "without fear
and without reproach."
Craven Le Noir proceeded cautiously with his plans, knowing that
there was time enough and that all might be lost by haste. He did
not wish to alarm Capitola.
The first time he took occasion to meet her in her rides he merely
bowed deeply, even to the flaps of his saddle and, with a melancholy
smile, passed on.
"Miserable wretch! He is a mean fellow to want to marry a girl
against her will, no matter how much he might have been in love with
her, and I am very glad I balked him. Still, he looks so ill and
unhappy that I can't help pitying him," said Cap, looking
compassionately at his white cheeks and languishing eyes, and little
knowing that the illness was the effect of dissipation and that the
melancholy was assumed for the occasion.
A few days after this Cap again met Craven Le Noir, who again, with
a deep bow and sad smile, passed her.
"Poor fellow! he richly deserves to suffer, and I hope it may make
him better, for I am right-down sorry for him; it must be so
dreadful to lose one we love; but it was too base in him to let his
father try to compel her to have him. Suppose, now, Herbert Greyson
was to take a fancy to another girl, would I let uncle go to him and
put a pistol to his head and say, 'Cap is fond of you, you varlet!
and demmy, sir, you shall marry none but her, or receive an ounce of
lead in your stupid brains'? No, I'd scorn it; I'd forward the other
wedding; I'd make the cake and dress the bride and--then maybe I'd
break--no, I'm blamed if I would! I'd not break my heart for
anybody.
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