“In a few weeks more I shall be obliged to return to India; to a land I dislike, and a service I detest: to live amongst companions distasteful to me, and amidst habits and associations that, however endurable when I knew no better, are now become positively odious in my eyes. This is my road to rank, station, and honour. There is, however, another path; and if I relinquish this career, and give up all thought of ambition, I might remain in Europe--here, perhaps, on this very lake side--and lead a life of humble but unbroken happiness--one of those peaceful existences which poets dream of, but never realise, because it is no use in disparaging the cup of life till one has tasted and known its bitterness; and these men have not reached such experience--_I_ have.” He waited for her to speak--he looked eagerly at her for a word--but she was silent. “The confession I want from you, Florence, is this: could you agree to share this life with me?” She shook her head and muttered, but what he could not catch. “It would be too dreary, too sad-coloured, you think?” “No,” said she, “not that.” “You fear, perhaps, that these schemes of isolation have never succeeded: that weariness will come when there are no longer new objects to suggest interest or employment?” “Not that,” said she, more faintly. “Then the objection must be myself. Florence, is it that you would, not, that you could not, trust me with your happiness?” “You ask for frankness, and you shall have it. I cannot except your offer. My heart is no longer mine to give.” “And this--this engagement, has been for some time back?” asked he, almost sternly. “Yes, for some time,” said she, faintly. “Am I acquainted with the object of it? Perhaps I have no right to ask this. But there is a question I have full and perfect right to ask. How, consistently with such an engagement, have you encouraged the attentions I have paid you?” “Attentions! and to me! Why, your attentions have been directed rather to my sister--at least, she always thought so--and even these we deemed the mere passing flirtations of one who made no secret of saying that he regarded marriage as an intolerable slavery, or rather, the heavy price that one paid for the pleasure of courtship.” “Are the mere levities with which I amused an hour to be recorded against me as principles?” “Only when such levities fitted into each other so accurately as to show plan and contrivance.” “It was Loyd said that. That speech was his. I’d lay my life on it.” “I think not. At least, if the thought were his, he’d have expressed it far better.” “You admire him, then?” asked he, peering closely at her.. “I wonder why they are not here,” said she, turning her head away. “This same race ought to come off by this time.” “Why don’t you answer my question?” “There he goes! Rowing away all alone, too, and my aunt is waving her handkerchief in farewell. See how fast he sends the boat through the water. I wonder why he gave up the race?”