Wlliam Gilmore Simms
Beauchampe; or, The Kentucky Tragedy. A Tale of Passion. >> Chapter X >> Page 93

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Page 93

Novel (Romance) | Lea and Blanchard | 1842
Transcription BEAUCHAMPE. 93

she had no apprehensions on the subject of her detention.
The blush again suffused the cheeks of Beauchampe, and
the rigid silence which his companion observed, as if
awaiting his utterance, suddenly increased his difficulties
in this respect. But the ice once broken, his impetuous
temper was resolved that it should not freeze again.
"I know, Miss Cooke," he observed, after what you
have just said, that I have no right any longer to trespass
upon you, but I dare not do otherwise�I dare not depart
..�I am the slave of a passion which has brought me, and
which keeps me here."
I must not listen to you, Mr. Beauchampe," she re-
plied, rising, as if to leave the room.
Forgive me !" he exclaimed, gently detaining her
" forgive me, but you must."
Must !" her eyes flashed brighter fires.
" I implore the privilege to use the word, but in no of-
fensive sense. Nay, Miss Cooke,--I release you�I will
not seek to detain you. You are at liberty,�with my
lips only do I implore you to remain."
The proud woman examined the face of the passionate
youth with some slight curiosity. To this, however, he
was insensible.
" You are aware, Mr. Beauchampe," she remarked, in-
differently, that your conduct is somewhat unusual."" Yes, perhaps so. I believe it. Nay, were I to think,
Miss Cooke, I should perhaps, under ordinary circum-
stances, agree to pronounce it unjustifiable. But, believe
me, it is meant to be respectful."
She interrupted him:
" Unless I thought so, sir, I could not be detained here
a moment longer."" Surely, surely, Miss Cooke, you cannot doubt my
respect,�my--"
I do not, sir."
Ah ! but you are so cold�so repulsive, Miss Cooke."
Perhaps I had better leave you, Mr. Beauchampe. It
will be better for both of us. You know nothing of me, I
nothing of you."
You mistake, Miss Cooke, in assuming that I know
nothing of you."
Ha! sir!" she answered, rising to her feet, her face
glowing like scarlet, while a blue vein, like a chord, divided