herself than Lady Anna Lovel, his sweet cousin. "Do not think me too hurried, dear, if I speak to you again so soon, of that of which I spoke once before." He had turned himself round upon his arm, so as to be very close to her,--so that he would look full into her face, and, if chance favoured him, could take her hand. He paused, as though for an answer; but she did not speak to him a word. "It is not long yet since we first met." "Oh, no;--not long." "And I know not what your feelings are. But, in very truth, I can say that I love you dearly. Had nothing else come in the way to bring us together, I am sure that I should have loved you." She, poor child, believed him as though he were speaking to her the sweetest gospel. And he, too, believed himself. He was easy of heart perhaps, but not deceitful; anxious enough for his position in the world, but not meanly covetous. Had she been distasteful to him as a woman, he would have refused to make himself rich by the means that had been suggested to him. As it was, he desired her as much as her money, and had she given herself to him then would never have remembered,--would never have known that the match had been sordid. "Do you believe me?" he asked. "Oh, yes." "And shall it be so?" Her face had been turned away, but now she slowly moved her neck so that she could look at him. Should she be false to all her vows, and try whether happiness might not be gained in that way? The manner of doing it passed through her mind in that moment. She would write to Daniel, and remind him of his promise to set her free if she so willed it. She would never see him again. She would tell him that she had striven to see things as he would have taught her, and had failed. She would abuse herself, and ask for his pardon;--but having thus judged for herself, she would never go back from such judgment. It might be done,--if only she could persuade herself that it were good to do it! But, as she thought of it, there came upon her a prick of conscience so sharp, that she could not welcome the devil by leaving it unheeded. How could she be foresworn to one who had been so absolutely good,--whose all had been spent for her and for her mother,--whose whole life had been one long struggle of friendship on her behalf,--who had been the only playfellow of her youth, the only man she had ever ventured to kiss,--the man whom she truly loved? He had warned her against these gauds which were captivating her spirit, and now, in the moment of her peril, she would remember his warnings. "Shall it be so?" Lord Lovel asked again, just stretching out his hand, so that he could touch the fold of her garment. "It cannot be so," she said. "Cannot be!" "It cannot be so, Lord Lovel." "It cannot now;--or do you mean the word to be for ever?" "For ever!" she replied.