"Do not, do not talk so dreadfully, Ernest. Forgive me, if I have done wrong in coming. Forgive me, if for one moment I recalled you to the tenderness you have so long abjured. But mine is the offence, and mine be the sorrow. Do not, I pray you, blame yourself so cruelly for my transgression, if it indeed be one. Oh, Ernest, how pale, how wretched you look! You are killing yourself and me,--your mother too. We cannot live in this state of alienation. The time of your vow is only half expired,--only twenty days are past, and they seem twenty years of woe. Dear Ernest, you are tempting God by this. One tear of penitence, one look of faith, one prayer to Christ for mercy, are worth more than years of penance and lonely torture. Revoke this rash vow. Come back to us, my Ernest,--come down from the wilderness, leave the desolate places of despair, and come where blessings wait you. Your mother waits to bless you,--Edith waits you to greet and welcome her Julian,--Margaret, a happy bride, waits your friendly congratulations. Come, and disperse by your presence the shadow that rests on the household." "Would you indeed counsel me to break a solemn vow, Gabriella? It may have been rash; but it was a vow; and were I to break it, I should feel forever dishonored in the sight of God and man." "Which, think you, had more weight when placed in the scales of eternal justice, Herod's rash vow, or the life of the holy prophet sacrificed to fulfil it? O Ernest!--wild, impulsive words forced from the lips of passion should never be made guides of action. It is wrong, I know, to speak unwisely and madly, but doubly, trebly wrong to act so." As thus I pleaded and reasoned and entreated, I kept my earnest gaze on his face, and eagerly watched,--watched with trembling hope and fear the effect of my words. I had drawn back from him as far as the width of the library, and my hands were clasped together and pressed upon my bosom. I did not know that I stood directly beneath the picture of the Italian flower-girl, till I saw his glance uplifted from my face to hers, with an expression that recalled the morning when he found me gazing on her features, in all the glow of youth, love, joy, and hope. Then I remembered how he had scattered my rose leaves beneath his feet, and what a prophetic sadness had then shaded my spirits.