Her voice trembled so that she made no response, and the flowers in the breast of her dress rose and fell with the quickened beating of her fluttered and, we are sorry to say, happy heart. A conviction troubled her, nevertheless, and would not be put aside--that he would master her and compel her to love him blindly by the mere force of his--practised--will, and she strove to resist it. 'You are over-confident, though flattering me, Sir Redmond,' said she, a little defiantly at last. 'And what does that prove?' 'That you are not, perhaps, what you really profess to be--in love.' 'With you?' 'Yes,' she replied, in a breathless voice. 'Have you ere this learned what love is?' 'I know what it should be like--timid and diffident,' she replied, uneasily, as her thoughts flashed sorrowfully to poor studious Robert Wodrow. 'You fear I do not love you?' he asked, reproachfully. 'I do not fear it.' 'Look into my eyes.' She did look, and her own lowered, for she saw that which so often passes for love with the unthinking or unwary--deep and burning passion; and again she glanced nervously around her, but felt impelled to remain where she was. Sir Redmond detected the motion, and, misconstruing it, said, with a contemptuous smile that was too subtle for her to perceive, 'You and that--a--Mr. Robert Wodrow were sweethearts, as it is called, when you were children, I have heard.' 'Indeed!' 'Well?' 'The very reason, if true, that we should wish to be no more to each other,' replied Ellinor, with some annoyance, remembering certain angry and bitter speeches of Robert's when last they met and parted, and some of his dark looks within the last hour. Sir Redmond was radiant at this response. She drew on her gloves, and was about to rise, when he detained her, and, drawing her suddenly towards him, boldly kissed her, not once, but twice! She grew very pale, and drew back, and felt as if about to weep. 'Why do you shrink from me, Ellinor?' he asked, with tenderness, while detaining her hands. 'I do not shrink; but--but all this has been so sudden.' 'Listen to me, dearest--dearest Ellinor. With all your artistic tastes, you must of course appreciate pretty things?' 'I do,' she replied, tremblingly, not knowing what was coming next. 'Do you admire this?' he asked, drawing from a pocket and unclasping a scarlet morocco case, on the blue satin lining of which there reposed a necklace of virgin gold, with a locket attached, studded with coral and diamonds, both miracles of the jeweller's art. 'It is lovely!' exclaimed the girl. 'I am glad you like it, for it is yours.' 'Mine!' said the girl, in a breathless voice, as she felt herself grow pale, and recognised the costliness of the jewel, but scarcely knowing what she did or what she said, while a curious mixture of dumb joy in her new lover and remorse for the former one seized her.