"All New France will honor you as the Chatelaine de Repentigny!
There will be none higher, as there will be none fairer, than my
bride!" Poor Le Gardeur! He had a dim suspicion that Angelique was
looking to France as a fitting theatre for her beauty and talents.
She still sat mute, and grew paler every moment. Words formed
themselves upon her lips, but she feared to say them, so terrible
was the earnestness of this man's love, and no less vivid the
consciousness of her own. Her face assumed the hardness of marble,
pale as Parian and as rigid; a trembling of her white lips showed
the strife going on within her; she covered her eyes with her hand,
that he might not see the tears she felt quivering under the full
lids, but she remained mute.
"Angelique!" exclaimed he, divining her unexpressed refusal; "why do
you turn away from me? You surely do not reject me? But I am mad
to think it! Speak, darling! one word, one sign, one look from
those dear eyes, in consent to be the wife of Le Gardeur, will bring
life's happiness to us both!" He took her hand, and drew it gently
from her eyes and kissed it, but she still averted her gaze from
him; she could not look at him, but the words dropped slowly and
feebly from her lips in response to his appeal:
"I love you, Le Gardeur, but I will not marry you!" said she.
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