Mr. Temple listened with eager attention to her words, bending down his head as if to prevent his losing one syllable of their significance, and then when she ceased to speak, his countenance brightened hopefully. "But were your circumstances--your position the only motive which compelled you to such a resource?" he earnestly rejoined, "and if a hand were stretched forth would you repulse it--a hand which would fain withhold one too pure and good for a soil uncongenial to qualities of that nature, to all that is pure, lovely and of good report. Oh, Miss Seaham, would you, will you reject it when it _is_ extended, and with it a heart trembling for the answer which is to proceed from your lips. Yes!" he hurried on as if with the nervous desire to postpone what he so eagerly awaited; "this is as you say, a world most good and beautiful. The glories of the Great Jehovah still gild this ruined earth. Yes, beautiful it is--beyond even what this fair country, wild and lovely of its kind, as it may be, can convey an idea to those whose experience extends no farther. Yes, it is most right and natural that you, with a mind above the common range, should thirst for such enjoyment; and oh! what happiness--what privilege to be the means of ministering to the desire--to be your guide--your guardian dear Miss Seaham, to regions whose charms even your refined imaginative mind is scarce able to conceive. But what do I say? My fears were indeed too well grounded, my dream dissolves apace, if I read aright the expression of that calm astonished countenance!" CHAPTER III. And so, beloved one--life's all--farewell! Still by my hearth thy gentle shade shall dwell, Still shall my soul, where night the dreariest seem, Fly back to thee, O soft--O vanish'd dream! THE NEW TIMON. What indeed had Mary heard--what did she understand? Mr. Temple the great, the excellent--he who for the many years he had made that retired neighbourhood his abode, had shone with such bright and exalted lustre among his little circle of acquaintances, inspiring in the minds of all, especially of those best able to appreciate his superiority, the family of Glan Pennant--admiring regard almost approaching to veneration, who to their eyes appeared more to approach in character as far as mortal may without impiety be said to approach, to that Great Being--Him who made himself of no reputation, stooped from his high estate--humbled himself for the sake of the poor and ignorant of mankind--was it he who thus addressed her?