Mary withdrew her hand, which he had scarcely dared to press, and leaned upon the chimney-piece without speaking. It rarely happens that such an announcement is made to a young lady quite unexpectedly; such was, however, the case here: for nothing was she less prepared! Cashel, it is true, had long ceased to be indifferent to her; the evenings of his visits at the cottage were sure to be her very happiest; his absences made dreary blanks. The inartificial traits of his character had at first inspired interest; his generous nature, and his manly leaning to right, had created esteem of him. There were passages of romantic interest in his former life which seemed so well to suit his bold and dashing independence; and there was also an implicit deference, an almost humility, in the obedience he tendered to her grandfather which spoke much for one whom sudden wealth and prosperity might be supposed to have corrupted. Yet, all this while, had she never thought of what impression she herself was making. “I have but one duty,” said she at last, in a faint whisper. [Illustration: 188] “Might I not share it with you, Mary?” said he, again taking her hand between his own; “you would not grudge me some part of his affection?” “Who crossed the window there?” cried she, starting; “did you not see a figure pass?” “No, I saw no one,--I thought of none, save you.” “I am too much frightened to speak. I saw someone stop before the window and make a gesture, as if threatening,--I saw it in the glass.” Cashel immediately hurried from the room, and, passing out, searched through the shrubberies on either side of the cottage, but without success. On examining closely, however, he could detect the trace of recent footsteps on the wet grass, but lost the direction on the gravel-walk; and it was in a frame of mind far from tranquil that be reentered the room. “You saw no one?” said she, eagerly. “Not one.” “Nor any appearance of footsteps?” “Yes, I did, or fancied I did, detect such before the window; but why should this alarm you, or turn your mind from what we spoke of? Let me once more--” “Not now--not now, I beg of you; a secret misgiving is over me, and I am not generally a coward; but I have not the collectedness to speak to you as I ought. I would not wish to be unkind, nor would I yet deceive you. This cannot be.” “Cannot be, Mary?” “Do not ask me more now. You are too generous to give pain: spare me, then, the suffering of inflicting it on you. I will tell you my reasons, you shall own them to be sufficient.” “When are we to meet again?” said Roland, as he moved slowly towards the door. “There it is again!” cried she, in a voice of actual terror; and Cashel opened the window and sprang out; but even the slight delay in unfastening the sash prevented his overtaking the intruder, whoever he might be, while, in the abundance of evergreens about, search was certain to prove fruitless.