At length, however, she recovered herself, and raised her head, though she still left her hand in mine:--"Oh, Louis," she said, "you have made me both very happy and very unhappy: very happy, because I am sure that you are too generous, too noble, to deceive, even in the least, a poor girl that doubts not one word from your lips; but I am very unhappy to feel sure, as I do, that neither your father nor your mother will ever consent that you should wed any one in the class bourgeoise, even though it were their own little Helen, on whom they have already showered so many bounties. It cannot be, indeed it cannot be! The very mention of it would make them wretched, and that must never happen, on account of one who owes them so deep a debt of gratitude." I tried to persuade her, as I had persuaded myself, that in time they would consent; but I failed in the endeavour, and as the first agitation subsided, and she began to reflect upon her situation at the moment, she became anxious to leave me.--"Let me return home," she said; "and oh, Louis! if you love me, never try to meet me in this way again, for I shall always feel like a guilty thing when I see your mother afterwards. I have your secret, and as I have promised, I will keep it: you have mine, and let me conjure you to hold it equally sacred. Forget poor Helen Arnault as soon as you can, and marry some lady in your own rank, who may love you perhaps as----" The tears prevented her going on. "Never, Helen, never!" exclaimed I, still holding her hand. "Stay yet one moment:--we are about to part for some months; promise me before I go, if you would make my absence from you endurable, that sooner or later you will be my wife!" "No, Louis, no!" answered she, firmly, "that I will not promise; for I will never be your wife without the consent of your parents. But I _will_ promise," she added, seeing that her refusal to accede to what I asked had pained my impatient spirit more than she expected, "I will _vow_, if you require it, never, never, to be the wife of another." With these words she withdrew her hand, and left me, turning her steps towards the château; while I, delighted to find myself loved, yet vexed she would not promise more, darted away into the hills; and, as if to escape the pursuit of feelings which, though in some degree happy, were still too strong for endurance, I sprang from rock to rock after the izzards, with agility and daring little less than their own, making the crags ring with my carbine, till I could return home sufficiently successful in the chase to prevent any one supposing I had been otherwise employed. CHAPTER VI.