“But, Lucy, my dear child, you are quite mistaken in your estimate of the arguments which I should use, because you neither can know nor suspect their import. They apply not at all to Lord Dunroe's morals, I assure you. It is enough to say, at present, that I am not at liberty to disclose them; and, indeed, I never intended to do so; but as a knowledge of the secret I possess may not only promote your happiness, but relieve you from the persecution and misery you endure on this young nobleman's account, I think it becomes my duty to have an interview with your father on the subject.” “Before you do so, my dear madam,” replied Lucy, “it is necessary that I should put you in possession of--of--” there was here a hesitation, and a blush, and a confusion of manner, that made Mrs. Mainwaring look at her with some attention. “Take care, Lucy,” she said smiling; “a previous engagement, I'll warrant me. I see you blush.” “But not for its object, Mrs. Mainwaring,” she replied. “However, you are right; and papa is aware of it.” “I see, Lucy; and on that account he wishes to hurry on this hated marriage--?” “I think so.” “And what peculiar dislike has papa against the object of your choice?--are you aware?” “The same he would entertain against any choice but his own--his great ambition. The toil and labor of all his thoughts, hopes, and calculations, is to see me a countess before he dies. I know not whether to consider this as affection moved by the ambition of life, or ambition stimulated by affection.” “Ah, my dear Lucy, I fear very much that if your papa's heart were analyzed it would be found that he is more anxious to gratify his own ambition than to promote your happiness, and that, consequently, his interest in the matter altogether absorbs yours. But we need not discuss this now. You say he is aware of your attachment?” “He is; I myself confessed it to him.” “Is he aware of the name and condition in life of your lover?” “Alas, no! Mrs. Mainwaring. He has seen him, but that is all. He expressed, however, a fierce and ungovernable curiosity to know who and what he is; but, unfortunately, my lover, as you call him, is so peculiarly circumstanced, that I could not disclose either the one or the other.” “But, my dear Lucy, is not this secrecy, this clandestime conduct, on the part of your lover, wrong? Ought you, on the other hand, to entertain an attachment for any person who feels either afraid or ashamed to avow his name and rank? Pardon me, my love.” Lucy rose up, and Mrs. Mainwaring felt somewhat alarmed at the length she had gone, especially on observing that the lovely girl's face and neck were overspread with a deep and burning blush.