“Yes, I will speak to her,” said Lady Lisgard mechanically. “Thank you, good Arthur, much.” She rose from her seat, and, heaving a deep sigh as she turned from the fair home-scene, was about to saunter to the beech-walk, when the young man laid his hand upon her arm. It was the lightest touch, but, like that of an enchanter's wand, it seemed to remove all trace of selfish trouble, and in its place to evoke the tenderest sympathy for another. “You wish to speak to me upon your own account, dear boy; and, alas! I know the subject you would choose.” “_Alas, ma mère!_ why _alas?_ I want to talk to you about your Letty.” “Not now, not now,” cried Lady Lisgard. “Spare me, dear Arthur, for this time; I feel so unhinged and woe-stricken, I can give you neither 'Yea nor 'Nay.'” “I hoped that you would not have thought of 'Nay,' dear Lady Lisgard,” said the young man pathetically. “I did not look for the same cruel arguments of difference of station and the like from _you_ as from--others. I shall have a home to offer your daughter such as will be wanting in no comfort, although it may not be one so fair as yonder Abbey. My professional prospects are, I am glad to say”---- “It is not _that_, dear boy,” broke in Lady Lisgard hastily. “You should know me better than to suppose so, Arthur; yet I cannot, nay, I dare not tell you what it is. It may be you will hear the truth some day, though never from these lips; it may be--I pray Heaven for that--that you will never need to hear it. But for the present, press me for no reply; for when you ask to be my daughter's husband, Arthur Haldane, you know not what you ask.” “That is what Sir Richard says,” replied the young man bitterly. “The Lisgards are such an ancient race, their blood so pure, their scutcheon”------ “Spare me, spare me, Arthur!” cried my Lady earnestly. “Give me only time, and I will do my best. If I have said anything to wound you, ah! forgive it for the sake of those old times, which you may think of some day, boy, not without tears, when I shall be to you but a memory. Think then--whatever's said--'Well, she was always kind to me; and when I wooed her daughter (you will own) she was kind too, although I did not think so then.'” My Lady's face was hidden in her hands, but through the fair white fingers, as though the diamonds in her rings had started from their sockets, oozed the large tears. “Dear Lady Lisgard, good, kind friend, ma mère,” exclaimed the young man, deeply moved, “what sorrow is it which overwhelms you thus? I pray you, let me share it. I am young and strong, and I love you and yours, and there is help in me. Come, let me try.”