for you to break these fetters, which have indeed hitherto been golden bands, but which you may perchance in the future feel to be links of iron!" Percival stood with folded arms, listening patiently while she spoke, the first flush of startled surprise changing to an intense pallor, as he bit his lips to keep back the eager words which would have rushed forth ere she had spoken more than two or three words. Then he waited resolutely for the end, a proud smile crossing his face as he said at last, forcing himself to speak calmly: "You are thinking of Tristram Ap Thomas then, Shanno, and you dream that Percival Vere has a heart fashioned like his! Know you that the Veres, when they love once, love for ever--and that yon very Planet of Love now shining in the dark blue vault of heaven would change her course in God's boundless space ere one of them could root out from his heart a love like mine! Let Tristram rejoice in his bride, and others who have vowed for you a love like his find consolation where they will--what is that to me? Till I saw your fair face and form by the dark pool's brink, no maiden had e'er had power to touch my heart, which was in keeping for you alone; nor, must I daily die a thousand deaths for your sweet sake, will ever maiden touch it more!" Primrose struggled vainly for words, which refused to come to her trembling lips; then, meeting the proudly flashing eyes of her lover as he gazed down upon her with a love re-awakened in all its intensity, she hid her face, and trembled from head to foot. For one moment Percival clasped her in his arms and passionately kissed the lips which strove in vain to plead their cause anew, then letting her go, he took her hands in his and said gently: "Who has bid you think so ill of me, sweetheart, as that I could ever crave any joy in life greater than that of your loving friendship and that measure of your sweet companionship which shall be allotted me in our path through this weary world?" "No one," she answered softly; "it was within my own heart the thought sprang forth, and not yet have you laid it to rest. Your words are passing sweet to me, my beloved, but bethink you,--you are yet young, and a long life may be before you. To me, my share of suffering is light compared with yours, for I accept my lot direct from the hand of God, from whose decree there is no appeal; but you--no stern sense of duty, such as upholds and strengthens me, is yours, to brace you to self-sacrifice. It is your love for me only that makes it binding on you, and therefore----"