"But you will promise not to speak to my daughter otherwise than as a friend, when you see her again?" she urged:--not at all eagerly, but, quite coolly, as she had spoken all along. I would have preferred her having been angry, to that calm, irritating impassiveness she displayed. She appeared to be a patent condenser of all emotion. "I suppose I must consent to your terms!"--I said, despairingly.--"Although, Mrs Clyde, I give you fair warning that, when I am in a position to renew my suit under better auspices, I will not hold myself bound by this promise." "Very well, Mr Lorton," she said, "I accept your proviso; but, when you make your fortune it will be time enough to talk about it! In the meanwhile, relying upon your solemn word as a gentleman not to renew your offer to my daughter, or single her out with your attentions--which might seriously interfere with her future prospects--I shall still be pleased to welcome you _occasionally_"--with a marked emphasis on the word--"at my house. What we have spoken about had, now, better be forgotten by all parties as soon as possible, excepting your promise, of course, _mind_!" and she bowed me out triumphantly--she victorious, I thoroughly defeated. What a sad, sad change had occurred since happy last night! All my bright hopes were obscured, my ardent longings quenched by fashionable matter-of-fact; and, Min herself had gone from me, without one single parting word! I was born to be unlucky, I think; everything went wrong with me now. Like the lonely, hopeless hero in Longfellow's translation of Min's favourite _Coplas de Manrique_, I might well exclaim in my misery-- "Let no one fondly dream again, That Hope and all her shadowy train Will not decay; Fleeting as were the dreams of old, Remembered like a tale that's told, They pass away!" How did I know, too, but, that, ere I saw my darling again, months might elapse, during which time all thoughts of me might be banished from her heart? One proverb tells us that "absence makes the heart grow fonder;" another, equally entitled to belief, warns anxious lovers that "out of sight" is to be "out of mind." Which of the two could I credit? Besides, even if she were constant and true to me, Mrs Clyde would certainly never give her consent to our engagement, I was confident--no, not if we both lived and loved until doomsday! All these bitter thoughts flashed through my mind in a moment, one after the other. I was angry, indignant, wretched. CHAPTER THREE. "NIL DESPERANDUM." To-morrow's sun shall warmer glow, And o'er this gloomy vale of woe Diffuse a brighter ray!