She came slowly, seemingly sadly. He could bear the doubt no more, and once more going forth, he looked up the passage in the direction of Mr. Carr's chamber. Juliet was there, but she was pale, trembling, supporting her half-fainting steps by laying her hand upon the cornice of the old wainscot, and with her bright eyes deluged in tears. As soon as she saw him, she made an effort and came forward more quickly, and Morley, throwing his arm around her, drew her into the drawing-room and closed the door. He pressed her to his bosom, he asked her again and again, in a tone of wild anxiety, what it was that grieved her; but Juliet continued to hide her face upon his breast, and weep in silence for several minutes, speech, and almost thought, seeming for the time denied to her. At length, however, she sobbed forth a few inarticulate words. They were merely--"It is all in vain, Morley--it is all in vain! I can never be yours. I have promised not to stay with you either--I must leave you, to see you no more;" and again her face, which she had raised for a moment to speak, fell upon his bosom, and her eyes deluged it with tears. "God of Heaven!" cried Morley Ernstein, "what is the meaning of this, Juliet? I must not--I cannot--I will not, lose you so! To what can your father object? With what can he find fault, in myself, my fortune, and my station?" "It is not that--it is not that!" cried Juliet. "It is ancient hatred, Morley--it is other plans, other designs. Oh, Heaven! that my father should ever have a share in causing you such grief!" "Grief, indeed?" cried Morley Ernstein. "But will you, Juliet--will you suffer yourself to be the means of inflicting such grief upon me? Juliet, you must not, you cannot act so. You are pledged and plighted to me. You are mine, my beloved, and I will never forego my claim upon your hand. Oh, Juliet! if you love me, if you have ever loved me, you will not fail me now in this hour of terrible trial. Juliet, you must consent to be mine at all risks, and without the consent of any one, if that consent is withheld upon such unworthy grounds. If one word can be brought against my character and reputation, if it can be shewn that I have done anything in life base, dishonourable, or wrong, I will submit, not without agony, but without a murmur. But, Juliet, if such is not the case, and if you have no reason to believe that I am unworthy of you, you have a duty to perform to me as well as to others, and, dear Juliet, I call upon you; by every tie of love and affection, to perform it at once. You have no right, Juliet, to be the means of trampling upon my heart; to doom all my future years to misery and solitary despair, to take away all the brightness of my youth, and but to bless me for a moment in order to make me miserable for ever. Fly with me, Juliet--fly with me! Once united, your father will readily forgive a step to which he himself drove us. Fly with me, and be mine at once--."