"And is it thus indeed, Daisy," he said, in a low tone, "you are pale as death, but as silent; your hand lies in mine chill as ice, but not withdrawn; you yield, mute and meek as a poor little victim to the arms that clasp you! No tears! No words to rouse remorse or sting pride. Nothing but entire sacrifice, and that silent submission." He spoke of paleness; his own face was like marble, his eyes overflowed, his lips trembled, he stooped to press them on my brow. Involuntarily I shunned the embrace. "Do not shrink," he observed, with evident pain, "I mean it as the last. Yes! the last. I never intended putting you to such a trial. Never, Daisy," he continued, giving me a wistful look, "anger at your blindness, and the irresistible temptation of a sudden opportunity, did indeed make me forget, in one moment, the dearly-bought patience of a year; passion, roused to tyranny after her long subjection, and sick of restraint, did indeed vow she would and should be gratified, no matter what the cost might be; but I never meant it. You are young, generous, and devoted. Months ago, if I had spoken, I know--and I knew it then--that I could have had you for the asking. But I could not bear to have you thus. When your grandfather placed so great a trust in my honour, and showed so little faith in my generosity, I laughed at his blindness, for I thought age had cooled his blood, and made him forget the language which is not speech. But alas! I found that I who had taught you many things, could not teach you this lesson. How could I? when what is held the easiest of all, the letting you see what you were to me, I could never accomplish. Do, say, act as I would, the sacredness of your affection ever stood between us. I tried every art, and love has many, but when I spoke so plainly, it seemed as if a very child must have understood me. You looked or smiled with hopeless serenity. I vowed once that cost me what it might, I would not speak until I had made you love me as truly, as ardently as I loved you myself. I waited months, I might have waited years. Well, no matter, it is over now. Be free, forget the trouble of an hour in the peace of a life-time. Be happy, very happy, and yet, oh! how happy, it seems to me, your friend could have made you, if you would but have let him." He released and left me. Touched with his sorrow, I could not restrain my tears. "Weep not for me," he said, with a sad smile; "I shall do. It is true that when I came back from Italy, I secretly boasted that I had escaped both the follies of youth and the dangers of passion. But though Fate, which I braved abroad, has, like a traitor, lain in wait for me in my own home, know, Daisy, that like a man, I can look her in the face, stern and bitter as she wears it on this day, too long delayed, of our separation." "Then you do mean to go?" I exclaimed, troubled to the very heart.