'Peste! my dear Nicola, I have no desire to see your Mademoiselle Marie Louise; nor shall I trust myself near the dangerous vicinity of her or her people, at least until I exchange the costume of an abbé for the iron trappings of the Garde du Corps Ecossais.' 'And we shall have parted at the gates of Nanci?' said she, in a low voice. 'Ah, Nicola,' I replied, 'you know not how the anticipation of that parting wrings my heart!' I sighed, and drew her close and closer still to my breast: she made no resistance; but I was conscious that she wept bitterly, and this secret emotion moved me deeply, and brought my passion to a height. 'Nicola,' said I, abruptly; 'will you marry me, dear Nicola? Oh, you do not know how much--how tenderly, I love you!' 'Marry me--a poor soubrette--you, a chevalier of the King's Guard--one of the proud noblesse of the Guard du Corps Ecossais!' 'Yes--I, Nicola.' 'Oh, monsieur, you must not speak in this way, or think of such a thing; I am only a poor girl!' 'Why?' 'What would the army--what would all Paris, say?' 'I will marry you with joy, Nicola, and take you home to my own dear country. The Countess--' 'Countess again!' 'Pardon me, dearest, I am not about to praise her, but merely to say that she has promised that through the powerful interference of Richelieu and King Louis, the cruel act which proscribes me shall be rescinded; and I know she will keep that promise. At home, I have lands, broad acres of corn and meadow, that lie by the banks of the Dee; I have fell and forest, a tower and hall, where your merry laugh shall make the echoes joyous again; and all that I have, with my heart and love, will I share with you, Nicola,' said I, borne away by the honest ardour of my passion, and the impulses of youth. I felt her tremble still more, and her tears fell fast upon my cheek. 'Were I to admit that I loved you, would you be more devoted to me?' 'Impossible! I could not be more devoted than I now am.' 'Oh, silly M. Blane! I heard you once say nearly the same thing to that woman d'Amboise.' 'No more of these memories, dearest Nicola, or I shall sink with shame!' 'Then let us be silent!' 'Nay, nay; say that you love me--that you will marry me,' said I, in a whisper; 'speak, Nicola, speak! for this suspense and silence are torture!' 'It may not, cannot be; our ranks in life are unequal, and our paths lie far apart.' 'Love, marriage will make them one.' 'Never!' she replied, in a broken voice; 'our paths in life must, I repeat, lie far, far apart.' 'Nicola!' 'I am but a poor little soubrette, a penniless girl of humble origin; and how would your proud Scottish kinswomen, with all their crests and quarterings, receive me, if they knew of this?' 'It can never be known, Nicola; and as the wife of my heart, the lady of Blanerne, I can find strong hands and steel blades enough in Glenkens to force the proudest peer in Scotland to vail his bonnet to you!'