But I hate to give up my freedom to any one, Sir
Redmond. I want to be free--free as the wind that blows here always, and
changes and changes, and blows from any point that suits its whim,
without being bound to any rule."
"Do you think I'm an ogre, that will lock you in a dungeon, Beatrice?
Can't you see that I am not threatening your freedom? I only want the
right to love you, and make you happy. I should not ask you to go or
stay where you did not please, and I'd be good to you, Beatrice!"
"I don't think it would matter," cried Beatrice, "if you weren't. I
should love you because I couldn't help myself. I hate doing things by
rule, I tell you. I couldn't care for you because you were good to me,
and I ought to care; it must be because I can't help myself. And I--"
She stopped and shut her teeth hard together; she felt sure she should
cry in another minute if this went on.
"I believe you do love me, Beatrice, and your rebellious young American
nature dreads surrender." He tried to look into her eyes and smile, but
she kept her eyes looking straight ahead. Then Sir Redmond made the
biggest blunder of his life, out of the goodness of his heart, and
because he hated to tease her into promising anything.
"I won't ask you to tell me now, Beatrice," he said gently. "I want you
to be sure; I never could forgive myself if you ever felt you had made a
mistake.
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