"How!" said he to himself,--"would you with sinful presumption penetrate into the sanctuary of this angel? Would you read thoughts, which have nothing in common with the wretched actions of minds entangled in earthly considerations? Would you mock the spirit of love himself, and try him with the accursed arts of dangerous and supernatural powers?" He hastily put up the box, with a feeling as if he had committed some sin that could never be atoned, and, dissolved in sadness, flung himself at the feet of the terrified Rose, exclaiming, that he was a wretched sinner, unworthy of the love of so innocent, so pure a being. Rose, who could not conceive what dark spirit had come over Peregrine, sank down to him, embraced him, and murmured with tears, "For God's sake, my dear Peregrine, what is the matter with you? What evil enemy has placed himself between us? Oh, come--come, and sit down quietly by me." Incapable of any voluntary motion, Peregrine suffered himself to be raised by Rose in silence. It was well that the frail old sofa was loaded, as usual, with books and the tools for binding, so that Rose had many things to clear away to make room for Mr. Tyss. By this he gained time to recover himself, and his first wild passion subsided into a milder feeling. But if before he had looked like a most disconsolate sinner, upon whom a sentence of condemnation had been irrevocably pronounced, he now wore a somewhat silly appearance. This, however, in such circumstances, is a favourable prognostic.