"I remarked that our conversations were progressive. My companion led me gradually into forbidden themes, as if to strengthen and embolden me. We went forth, in fancy, from our shadowy chamber, through deep groves, into twilights, beneath soft skies, even into the glare of the sun, and, at last, among the storms and the seas. I may have quivered, but I was not shocked; for the wrack and roar of the universe were drowned in the quietness of her voice. Then we walked abroad a little way, and, though pained, I endured; for she did not abuse these successes. She had travelled in far countries, and often read me friendly letters which attested how well the world esteemed her. Sometimes her acquaintances came to the house, but never to my room; and once or twice she was absent a whole day, when my nervousness returned. There was one correspondent whose missives were never read to me--a fine, bold hand, which at length became familiar. Their receipt pleased her, I thought, and once I ventured to say, "'Heraine, you have a pleasant letter there.' "She only blushed very much, and all her quietness was gone for a moment. "As the months expanded into years, a new feeling engendered from our intimacy. I did not comprehend it at first. It crept upon me like the unfolding of a new sense, or the gradual realizing of the earliest profound thought. An unexpected event gave it recognition. "The boldly-indorsed letters came twice a month at first, afterward four times, and finally twice, thrice, and even five times a week. Heraine was quick and flushed. She passed but two or three hours daily in my apartment, and substituted for the embroidery a dress of such bright hues that it dazzled my eyes. One day she took her accustomed seat, with a face subdued to sadness and an irresolute manner. "'Luke,' she said, after a long pause, 'we have passed many days pleasantly together?' "She did not wait for me to speak, though I thrilled and turned deadly white. "'And because so pleasantly, I contemplate my farewell with regret.' "'Your farewell, Heraine?' "'Yes,' she said firmly; 'to-day--this afternoon--this hour--I bid adieu to Glengoyle!' "I fell forward in my seat, forcing down my heart, which sobbed and swelled, and the whole world rang, flared, and burst into violence. If the seas had opened their fountains and the crust of the globe crushed up, there would have been no greater chaos. But in my faintness and agony I caught the blue eye which had soothed and melted me so often, and, clasping my hands, I fell at her knees and said, "'Heraine, I love you!' "It was her time to tremble now, and I interpreted the pallor of her cheek as a signal of hope.