'By this, however,' said Arwed, 'I must consider myself as having acquired some claim to your sisterly confidence. I am glad to know that you can feel no other sentiment for me, as it would give me pain to be compelled to reject your heart as well as your hand. But I cannot possibly believe that your coldness extends to the whole sex. That, indeed, would be still more unnatural than your horse-racing and bear-hunting; No, no! your heart is not insensible. The glance of your eye, like the diamond, now flashing fire, and now dissolving in crystals, has already revealed it. You know what it is to love!' 'You afflict me cruelly, cousin!' cried Christine, holding her hand before her traitorous eyes. 'Confide in me,' entreated Arwed, affectionately withdrawing her hand from her face. 'Go back with me to the times of our happy childhood, when we mutually imparted all our little secrets, when we laid our hearts before each other like open books. Let me once more read in yours: who is the man of your choice?' 'You _shall_ read it, Arwed,' cried Christine; 'by heaven you shall read it! But not now,--only not to-day.' 'Why not now?' urged Arwed. 'The present is precisely the right moment. Your heart is now softened and open. Pour it out towards me before caprice and false shame shall again harden and close it. Name the man of your choice to me, and take my word that I will honestly do whatever I can to promote your happiness. Surely, Christine can have no reason to be ashamed of her choice!' 'Pity me!' cried she; and, again bursting into tears, she fled from the room. 'Strange!' said Arwed, looking after her. 'The maiden is not at peace with herself; that is evident from the violence and eccentricity of her behaviour. There is a wounded spot in her heart which smarts at the least touch. Pray heaven it be not Mac Donalbain! It would be a pity for so magnificent a creature.' CHAPTER XXXII.