"Thank you! a thousand times thank you! my kind brother! Even _you_ cannot tell the weight of suffering, you have this day taken from my mind. My conduct towards Acmé has been bowing me to the earth; and yet I feared your consent would never be obtained. I feared that coldness from you and Emily would have met her; and that I should have had but _her_ smile to comfort me for the loss of what I so value. God bless you for this!" Delmé was much affected. To complete his good work, he waited till Acmé had returned from a visit she had just made to her relations; and taking her aside, told her his wishes, and detailed his late conversation with George. "Never! never!" said the young Greek, "I am too happy as I am. I have heard you all make better lovers than husbands. I cannot be happier! No! no! I will never consent to it." All remonstrances were fruitless--no arguments could affect her--no entreaties persuade. Delmé, quite perplexed at finding such a difficulty, where he had so little expected to find one,--pitying her simplicity, but admiring her disinterestedness,--went to George, and told him Acmé's objections. "I feared it," said his brother, "but perhaps I may induce her to think differently. Were I to take advantage of her unsophisticated feelings, and want of knowledge of the world, I should indeed be a villain." Acmé was sent for, and came weeping in--took Georg's hand--and gazed earnestly in his face as he addressed her. "You must change your mind, dearest," said he. And he told her of the world's opinion--the contumely she might have to endure--the slights to which she would be subjected. Still she heeded not. "Why mention these things?" said she. "Who would insult me, were _you_ near? or if they did, should I regard them while _you_ were kind?" And her lover's words took a loftier tone; and he spoke of religion, and of the duties it imposes; of the feelings of his countrywomen; and the all-seeing eye of their God. Still the fond girl wept bitterly, but spoke not. "My own Acmé! consider _my_ health too, dearest! Were you now to consent, I might never again be ill. It would be cruelty to me to refuse. Say you consent for _my_ sake, sweet!" "For your sake, then!" said Acme, as she twined her snowy arms round his neck, "for _your_ sake, Giorgio, I do so! But oh! when I am yours for ever by that tie; when--if this be possible--our present raptures are less fervent--our mutual affections less devoted--do not, dearest George--do not, I implore you--treat me with coldness. It would break my heart, indeed it would."