Mervin pressed the hand she extended to him to his lips and heart in uncontrollable emotion. “Ah, beloved Julia! in this hour I must again pour into your ear the passion that masters my whole being. As you shall answer this night, will my fate for good or evil be decided. How I dare venture to ask you, the beautiful, the flattered, to wait for years until a poor artist has achieved independence, I know not, but the hope is in my heart, Julia, that you will not deem me presumptuous. Oh, beloved, the future with its bright promise of fame is cheerless, without the hope is given that I may attain the idol of my youth. Speak—let me know my doom! I go forth sanguine in hope, and certain of success speedily won—or I carry with me a heart so crushed—so blighted by the disappointment of its dearest wish, that the energy to accomplish any thing worthy of myself will never revive.” Tears were in Julia’s eyes. All her worldliness, all her hesitation had vanished at the sound of his words: she was only the loving and beloved woman, ready to share his lot, whether that lot were gloomy or bright. “The hope is yours,” she whispered. “Is it not a brighter destiny to be the artist’s love than the bride of him whose fortune is his only claim to the station he holds? The day will come when my parents will be proud to give me to you. When that time arrives, take with you the assurance that you will find me free from other ties, with a heart glorying in the reputation you have won by your own exertions.” “With such a reward in view, what toil will be too great, what probation too tedious to be borne! Oh, Julia, you have given me a motive which will enable me to triumph over every obstacle. But in the years that must elapse before I can rationally hope to claim my bride, how will you evade the persevering pursuit of this Herbert?” “Do not fear him, Arthur. He is like a tortoise in pursuit of a bird on the wing, when following me. I can suffer him to belong to my train for years and still be no nearer marrying him than now. Besides, the inexplicable anxiety of my parents to see me united to him, will prevent them from giving decided encouragement to the addresses of any other lover. So you see it is rather on advantage to have so dilatory a suitor.” “The influence of your parents will be entirely in his favor—you will be firm, my beloved—you will not yield. Remember, if you do, that you will be answerable for one human destiny. Your confession of this night has blended your fate, irrevocably with mine. You cannot draw back without rending the ties that bind me to reason—perhaps life.” “I shall have no wish to draw back, Arthur. Though vain and worldly, there is enough nature still left in my heart to appreciate and return your affection. When the last hope of life has departed, I may yield and become another’s; but while your love remains as my beacon-light to happiness, I will continue true to my plighted troth.”