That same night,--as he was upon the eve of his departure for Sherwood forest, on the doubtful expedition for the liberation of James Woodruff, Colin desired and obtained an interview with the young lady. It was after a very early meal--about eight o'clock in the evening--when they walked out along that portion of the garden which lay immediately in view of the front of Mr. Calvert's house. It was a soft mellow autumnal night,--the air was still and warm; the leaves were scattered abundantly on the paths by some rude by-gone blast, and now lay in drifted heaps along the edges of the grass-plots and under every sheltered corner; while an increasing moon, that gave just light enough to keep darkness out of the sky and total blackness from the earth, seemed to sail, like a forsaken wreck, amongst the white and billowy clouds that overspread the sky. Jane leaned more fondly, he thought, upon his arm than ever before; and during some minutes they paced to and fro, without either of them venturing to speak to the other those words which at best must have been as it were but the preface to trouble. This silence lay heavy on each heart, and yet each feared to break it. The first word would sound like a parting knell, and neither felt courage to utter it. Still they walked up and down; until at length that meaning and eloquent silence, which was at first painful, became insupportable. Suddenly Colin stopped in his path, laid his hand earnestly upon the arm of his companion, and bent his face earthward, as he said, “Young lady, there is no farther occasion for disguise or secrecy on the part of yourself and your family. I know it all, now. We must part!--that is fixed!--Part once more, and for ever! For myself, as I know myself, and that whatever evil may be supposed to attach to others, _I_, at least, have not individually deserved this,--it is contrary to my nature to endure unkindness undeserved. I am thought unworthy of you, and am treated as though I were; but I will not in reality render myself so, by acting a mean and cowardly part; by pressing my acquaintance where it is not desired, and persisting in those attentions which even she, to whom they are offered,--even _she_, thinks proper to reject.” “Oh, no, do not say so!” exclaimed his companion. “It is not so, indeed,--it is not, indeed!” “I speak,” replied Colin, “only from what I have seen and experienced. I _have_ loved you,--I _do_ love you! And, for the rest, you know that as well as I.” “In truth, sir,” answered Miss Calvert, “I know nothing whatever of the cause of all this. A few days ago only, I thought we were _so_ happy! And now----” A flood of tears here told, in the most pitiful of all languages, the difference between that time and the present. “You know nothing of it?” demanded Colin. “Nothing, I assure you,” answered his companion. “Then, why,” asked he,--“why do worse than even others did, and shun me without knowing why?”