"Mr. Hubert, you will not listen to me," said Margaret, anxious to bring the dialogue to a conclusion. "You are so charming! You look a thousand-fold more beautiful than when I saw you last. But what of your beauty? Nothing to that angelic disposition which animates all you do. You thought me so trifling that I could not comprehend your heart. Margaret, it was that which made me seek you." "I am very sorry that I wronged you so far," said Margaret. "I did not think it was your nature to care much--to love much,--I mean to be much in earnest about anything. If, indeed," said she, marking the distressed expression of his countenance, "your happiness is disturbed, I am still more sorry; but I can do nothing. I cannot tell you falsely that I shall ever change." "You will not! See what you do! You have made my whole life wretched--worse than that, useless. I can settle to nothing. I cannot leave the country where you are. But I will not despair. You shall see more of me--you shall love me yet." "There is one thing," said Margaret with a little air of triumph, "we leave this place on Thursday." "So much the better," said Hubert, "for I shall be very near you at Chirke Weston." Margaret looked vexed and undecided. She thought there was but one way to put a stop to his assiduities; and although with great reluctance, she resolved to adopt it. "You compel me to be very plain with you, Mr. Hubert," she said; "but I cannot see any other means of convincing you that we can be no more than friends to one another. I am engaged to another person." "Engaged! How is it possible? How can I believe it? You so young--and living so retired. May I ask if Mr. Grey is aware of this engagement?" "He is," said Margaret. "Why then it is Claude Haveloc!" said Hubert, leaning against the side of the porch. Margaret was silent. He remained standing, apparently much disturbed. "And you are engaged to Claude Haveloc?" said he, throwing himself on the seat beside her. Her colour mounted; but she made a gesture of assent. He remained for some moments apparently undecided as to what he should say or do; and then looking up suddenly, took her hand. "Forget me if you will," he said; "but never give a thought to him again." "Mr. Hubert!" said Margaret, colouring with anger. "He is entirely unworthy of you; it is the talk of the village beyond you there; he is paying his addresses to a young lady who is dying of a consumption. But his attentions for weeks have been too marked to admit of a doubt. He is pitied and praised by every one. He is daily and all day at the house." "Well that can be explained. I will ask him," said Margaret, trying to speak calmly. "You can do better than ask him. You can see and judge for yourself. Walk past the house at any hour, and find him, as I saw him, at the feet of your rival."