aiting to speak to me.'

'I've been waiting some weeks. Shall I speak here?'

'Yes, here, quickly.'

'Before the house? I have come to ask you for your hand.'

'Mine? I cannot...'

'Step into the park with me. I ask you to marry me.'

'It is too late.'

CHAPTER XLVII. THE REFUSAL OF HIM

Passing from one scene of excitement to another, Cecilia was perfectly
steeled for her bitter task; and having done that which separated her a
sphere's distance from Beauchamp, she was cold, inaccessible to the face
of him who had swayed her on flood and ebb so long, incapable of tender
pity, even for herself. All she could feel was a harsh joy to have
struck off her tyrant's fetters, with a determination to cherish it
passionately lest she should presently be hating herself: for the
shadow of such a possibility fell within the narrow circle of her strung
sensations. But for the moment her delusion reached to the idea that
she had escaped from him into freedom, when she said, 'It is too late.'
Those words were the sum and voice of her long term of endurance. She
said them hurriedly, almost in a whisper, in the manner of one changeing
a theme of conversation for subjects happier and livelier, though none
followed.

The silence bore back on her a suspicion of a faint reproachfulness
in the words; and perhaps they carried a poetical tone, still more
distasteful.

'You have been listening to tales of me,' said Beauchamp.

'Nevil, we can always be friends, the best of friends.'

'Were you astonished at my asking you for your hand? You said "mine?" as
if you wondered. You have known my feelings for you. Can you deny that?
I have reckoned on yours--too long?--But not falsely? No, hear me out.
The truth is, I cannot lose you. And don't look so resolute. Overlook
little wounds: I was never indifferent to you. How could I be--with eyes
in my head? The colonel is opposed to me of course: he will learn to
understand me better: but you and I! we cannot be mere friends. It's
like daylight blotted out--or the eyes gone blind:--Too late? Can you
repeat it? I tried to warn you before you left England: I should have
written a letter to put you on your guard against my enemies:--I find I
have some: but a letter is sure to stumble; I should have been obliged
to tell you that I do not stand on my defence; and I thought I should
see you the next day. You went: and not a word for me! You gave me no
chance. If you have no confidence in me