"Oh, no!" answered her lover; "but yet I was in a degree tempted. I was going to London, with my thoughts full of Rose Tracy, with my heart full of passionate attachment. I felt that under the will of my father, which had been proved, my means were far too small, without some great exertion on my own part, to justify me in pretending to her hand; and at the very moment when I was thinking of how I could mend my broken fortunes--by what effort, by what scheme, however bold, I could acquire a position which would give me even hope, this man crossed me with visioned promises of speedy wealth. But a moment's reflection on the means, a moment's examination of the man himself, dispelled the illusion. Now, however, dear Rose, it behoves me to put the same questions to myself which I then put. I am not richer, but poorer; all I have on earth is but a pittance, barely enough to maintain myself in the rank of a gentleman. What will your father, what will your uncle say, if I presume to tell them of my love, and ask for it their countenance and approbation?" Rose leaned her head upon her hand, and her eyes filled with tears; but she answered at length, "You must tell them, at all events, Chandos. You cannot tell, you cannot imagine the pain--the agony of mind which the concealment I have already practised has brought upon me--innocent and justifiable as I thought it. Oh! Chandos, for my sake you must abandon all further disguise." "For your sake, dear Rose, I would do anything," replied Chandos Winslow; "but of course you do not wish me to enter upon the subject to-night. To-morrow I must go into the city to sell out a part of my small portion, in order to pay the expenses of the late trial. I must also see my friend, Sir ----, who so nobly and ably defended me. He seems to entertain a belief--on which, however, I would not found the slightest hope--that a subsequent will of my father's may either be recovered, or the intention of it proved, or something of the kind--I really do not exactly know what; and that I may be thereby enabled to stop the sale of Winslow Abbey." Rose started; but ere she could explain the effect which such a step, if it were practicable, might have upon the fortunes of her father, a carriage drew up to the house, and there was a footman's knock at the door. Emily immediately joined them, and it was evident that she had been weeping. Chandos knew not his strange position: but could he have seen into the hearts of those two fair girls, what would he have beheld?--That the one rejoiced at his acquittal of a crime she knew he had not committed, yet saw therein the prospect of misery to herself by the probable consequence of his brother's return to England; that the other, while she could not but hope that he might establish his rights, whatever they were, feared that her own father's utter ruin would be thereby consummated.