How I approached the subject on which my heart was set I cannot now remember--abruptly, I fear; imperfectly and dubiously I know: because Sir Gordon, one of the most patient and forbearing of men, suddenly interrupted me by a violent exclamation, “Hold! stay! not a word more! Templeton, this cannot be; once for all, never recur to this again!” Shocked, almost terrified by the agitation in his looks, I was unable to speak for some seconds; and while I saw that some misconception of my meaning had occurred, yet, in the face of his prohibition, I could scarcely dare an attempt to rectify it. While I remained thus in painful uncertainty, he seemed, by a strong effort, to have subdued his emotion, and at length said, “Not even to you, my dear friend--to you, to whom I owe the hope that has sustained me for many a day past, can I reveal the secret source of this sorrow, nor say why what you propose is impossible. I dreaded something like this--I foresaw how it might be; nay, my selfishness was such that I rejoiced at it, for her sake. There--there, I will not trust myself with more. Leave me, Templeton; whatever your griefs, they are as nothing compared to mine.”
I left him, and, hastening towards the lake side, soon lost myself in the dark groves of chestnut and olive, the last words still ringing in my ears--“Whatever your griefs, they are as nothing compared to mine.” Such complete pre-occupation had his agitation and trouble over my mind, that it was long ere I could attempt to recall how I had evoked this burst of passion, and by what words I had stirred him so to address me. Suddenly the truth flashed boldly out; I perceived the whole nature of the error. He had, in fact, interrupted iny explanation at a point which made it seem that I was seeking his grandaughter in marriage. Not waiting to hear me out, he deemed the allusions to my name, my family arms, and my fortune, were intended to convey a proposal to make her my wife. Alas! I needed no longer to wonder at his repugnance, nor speculate further on the energy of his refusal. How entertain such a thought for his poor child! It were, indeed, to weave Cyprus with the garland of the Bride!
Impatient any longer to lie under the misconception--at heart, perhaps, vexed to think how wrongfully he must have judged me when deeming me capable of the thought--I hastened back to the Villa, determined at once to rectify the error and make him hear me out, whatever pains the interview should cost either.