"I know it was foolish," she replied, "I know it was very foolish, Bernard; but yet, even now," and she looked down blushing upon the ground, "but yet, even now, the same foolish hesitation makes me scruple to tell you what I firmly believe is the best, nay, is the only plan by which we could hope to avoid the dangers that surround us." "Nay, Isabel, nay," replied Bernard de Rohan, "after saying so much, you must say more. You must tell me all, freely, candidly. The brightest part of love is its confidence. It is that perfect, that unhesitating reliance, that interchange of every idea and every feeling, that perfect community of all the heart's secrets and the mind's thoughts, which binds two beings together more closely, more dearly than the dearest of human ties: more than the vow of passion or the oath of the altar. It is that confidence which, did we not deny its sway, would give to earthly love a permanence that we find but seldom in this world. Oh, Isabel, you must not, indeed you must not, have even a thought that is not mine." "Nor will I, Bernard," she replied, "nor will I; though I may blush to say what I was going to say, I will not hesitate to say it. It is this, then, Bernard: You must take me hence without delay." "Oh, how gladly," he cried, throwing his arms round her, and kissing the glowing cheek that rested on his shoulder; "oh, how gladly, Isabel! I waited but for the arrival of your brother to propose that step to you myself. If this Lord of Masseran chooses to refuse me admission, I cannot force my way in, and you may be subject to every kind of grief and pain before I receive such authority from the king or from Brissac as will force him to give you up."