Capitolas Peril - Page 99/218

Craven Le Noir proceeded cautiously with his plans, knowing that there

was time enough and that all might be lost by haste. He did not wish to

alarm Capitola.

The first time he took occasion to meet her in her rides he merely

bowed deeply, even to the flaps of his saddle and, with a melancholy

smile, passed on.

"Miserable wretch! He is a mean fellow to want to marry a girl against

her will, no matter how much he might have been in love with her, and I

am very glad I balked him. Still, he looks so ill and unhappy that I

can't help pitying him," said Cap, looking compassionately at his white

cheeks and languishing eyes, and little knowing that the illness was

the effect of dissipation and that the melancholy was assumed for the

occasion.

A few days after this Cap again met Craven Le Noir, who again, with a

deep bow and sad smile, passed her.

"Poor fellow! he richly deserves to suffer, and I hope it may make him

better, for I am right-down sorry for him; it must be so dreadful to

lose one we love; but it was too base in him to let his father try to

compel her to have him. Suppose, now, Herbert Greyson was to take a

fancy to another girl, would I let uncle go to him and put a pistol to

his head and say, 'Cap is fond of you, you varlet! and demmy, sir, you

shall marry none but her, or receive an ounce of lead in your stupid

brains'? No, I'd scorn it; I'd forward the other wedding; I'd make the

cake and dress the bride and--then maybe I'd break--no, I'm blamed if I

would! I'd not break my heart for anybody. Set them up with it, indeed!

Neither would my dear, darling, sweet, precious Herbert treat me so,

and I'm a wretch to think of it!" said Cap, with a rich, inimitable

unction as, rejoicing in her own happy love, she cheered Gyp and rode

on.

Now, Craven Le Noir had been conscious of the relenting and

compassionate looks of Capitola, but he did not know that they were

only the pitying regards of a noble and victorious nature over a

vanquished and suffering wrong-doer. However, he still determined to be

cautious, and not ruin his prospects by precipitate action, but to

"hasten slowly."

So the next time he met Capitola he raised his eyes with one deep, sad,

appealing gaze to hers, and then, bowing profoundly, passed on.

"Poor man," said Cap to herself, "he bears no malice toward me for

depriving him of his sweetheart; that's certain. And, badly as he

behaved, I suppose it was all for love, for I don't know how any one

could live in the same house with Clara and not be in love with her. I

should have been so myself if I'd been a man, I know!"