"If you speak thus wildly," said Tressilian, astonishment again
overpowering both his grief and his resolution, "I must believe you
indeed incapable of thinking or acting for yourself."
"Oh, no!" she exclaimed, sinking on one knee before him, "I am not
mad--I am but a creature unutterably miserable, and, from circumstances
the most singular, dragged on to a precipice by the arm of him who
thinks he is keeping me from it--even by yours, Tressilian--by
yours, whom I have honoured, respected--all but loved--and yet loved,
too--loved, too, Tressilian--though not as you wished to be."
There was an energy, a self-possession, an abandonment in her voice
and manner, a total resignation of herself to his generosity, which,
together with the kindness of her expressions to himself, moved him
deeply. He raised her, and, in broken accents, entreated her to be
comforted.
"I cannot," she said, "I will not be comforted, till you grant me
my request! I will speak as plainly as I dare. I am now awaiting the
commands of one who has a right to issue them. The interference of a
third person--of you in especial, Tressilian--will be ruin--utter ruin
to me. Wait but four-and-twenty hours, and it may be that the poor
Amy may have the means to show that she values, and can reward, your
disinterested friendship--that she is happy herself, and has the means
to make you so. It is surely worth your patience, for so short a space?"
Tressilian paused, and weighing in his mind the various probabilities
which might render a violent interference on his part more prejudicial
than advantageous, both to the happiness and reputation of Amy;
considering also that she was within the walls of Kenilworth, and could
suffer no injury in a castle honoured with the Queen's residence, and
filled with her guards and attendants--he conceived, upon the whole,
that he might render her more evil than good service by intruding upon
her his appeal to Elizabeth in her behalf. He expressed his resolution
cautiously, however, doubting naturally whether Amy's hopes of
extricating herself from her difficulties rested on anything stronger
than a blinded attachment to Varney, whom he supposed to be her seducer.
"Amy," he said, while he fixed his sad and expressive eyes on hers,
which, in her ecstasy of doubt, terror, and perplexity, she cast up
towards him, "I have ever remarked that when others called thee girlish
and wilful, there lay under that external semblance of youthful and
self-willed folly deep feeling and strong sense. In this I will confide,
trusting your own fate in your own hands for the space of twenty-four
hours, without my interference by word or act."