She was walking alone and slowly, her eyes bent upon the ground, and did not perceive him. According to a common custom with the middle classes of Rome, her rich hair, save by a single band, was uncovered; and as her slight and exquisite form moved along the velvet sod, so beautiful a shape, and a face so rare in its character, and delicate in its expression, were in harmony with the sweet superstition of the spot, and seemed almost to restore to the deserted cave and the mourning stream their living Egeria. Godolphin stood transfixed to the earth; and Lucilla, who was walking in the direction of the grotto, did not perceive, till she was almost immediately before him. She gave a faint scream as she lifted her eyes; and the first and most natural sentiment of the woman breaking forth involuntarily,--she attempted to falter out her disavowal of all expectation of meeting him there. "Indeed, indeed, I did not know--that is--I--I--" she could achieve no more. "Is this a favourite spot with you?" said he, with the vague embarrassment of one at a loss for words. "Yes," said Lucilla, faintly. And so, in truth, it was: for its vicinity to her home, the beauty of the little valley, and the interest attached to it--an interest not the less to her in that she was but imperfectly acquainted with the true legend of the Nymph and her royal lover--had made it, even from her childhood, a chosen and beloved retreat, especially in that dangerous summer time, which drives the visitor from the spot, and leaves the scene, in great measure, to the solitude which befits it. Associated as the place was with the recollection of her earlier griefs, it was thither that her first instinct made her fly from the rude contact and displeasing companionship of her relations, to give vent to the various and conflicting passions which the late scene with Godolphin had called forth. They now stood for a few moments silent and embarrassed, till Godolphin, resolved to end a scene which he began to feel was dangerous, said in a hurried tone:-- "Farewell, my sweet pupil!--farewell!--May God bless you!" He extended his hand, Lucilla seized it, as if by impulse; and conveying it suddenly to her lips, bathed it with tears. "I feel," said this wild and unregulated girl, "I feel, from your manner, that I ought to be grateful to you: yet I scarcely know why: you confessed you cannot love me, that my affection distresses you--you fly--you desert me. Ah, if you felt one particle even of friendship for me, could you do so?" "Lucilla, what can I say?--I cannot marry you." "Do I wish it?--I ask thee but to let me go with thee wherever thou goest." "Poor child!" said Godolphin, gazing on her; "art thou not aware that thou askest thine own dishonour?"