"It does not offend me," she said, simply; "although I do not think that you are right. Why should not a lord, great and rich as this one, marry a girl who has no drawback but poverty? I do not see such a great difference." "I cannot tell you, my lady lass, either the why or the wherefore," he replied. "I know that rich men do not marry poor and obscure girls; and if they do, there is sure to be something wrong with the marriage. We will not talk about it, only if he seems to admire you at all, do you keep out of that young man's way." She made him no answer; his care for her touched her, but then there was no need. Lord Chandos was unlike other men; besides which he loved her so well he could not live without her. So, when the sun was setting in the western sky, she went down to the mill-stream, where her lover awaited her. The crimson clouds were reflected in the rippling water, the birds were singing in the trees, the flowers were all falling asleep; the fair, fragrant world was getting ready for its time of rest. "Leone," he cried, seizing her hands and drawing her toward him, "my darling, I thought to-day would never come. How many hours did yesterday hold?" "Twenty-four," she replied. "Only twenty-four? Why, it seemed to me it was a day as long as a year, and I asked myself one question, sweet." "What was it, Lance?" "This: that if one day seemed so terribly long, what would become of me if I had to pass a week without you?" "What would become of you?" she said, laughingly. "I should die of my own impatience," he said, his handsome young face flushing. "Fate may try me as it will," he added, "but it must never separate me from you. It is because I have found this out that I have asked you to meet me here to-night. I cannot live without you, Leone; you understand that the hours are long and dark; life seems all ended, I cannot feel interest or energy; I am longing for you all the time, just as thirsty flowers are longing for dew. Leone, I should long until the fever of my own longing killed me--for you." He drew the beautiful face to his own, and kissed it with a passion words could never tell. "Why should I not be happy in my own way?" he said. "If I want the one only thing on earth that could bring me my happiness, why should I not have it? Of what use is money, wealth, position, rank, anything else on earth to me, unless I have you. I would rather lose all I have in the world than lose you." "It is sweet to be loved so well," she said, with a sigh. "I have had letters from home to-day," he said, "and I--I am half afraid to tell you lest you should say no. I am to leave Rashleigh in one month from now, and to go to my father's house--Cawdor, it is called. Leone, I cannot go alone." She looked at him with wondering eyes; the ardent young lover who believed his love to be so great and so generous, yet who, in reality, loved himself best, even in his love.