“Oh, fie! it is wicked to talk so. Compare a poor, coarse-favoured girl like me with the Queen of Heaven? Oh, Gerard! I thought you were a good young man.” And Margaret was shocked apparently. Gerard tried to explain. “I am no worse than the rest; but how can I help having eyes, and a heart Margaret!” “Gerard!” “Be not angry now!” “Now, is it likely?” “I love you.” “Oh, for shame! you must not say that to me,” and Margaret coloured furiously at this sudden assault. “I can't help it. I love you. I love you.” “Hush, hush! for pity's sake! I must not listen to such words from a stranger. I am ungrateful to call you a stranger. Oh! how one may be mistaken! If I had known you were so bold--” And Margaret's bosom began to heave, and her cheeks were covered with blushes, and she looked towards her sleeping father, very much like a timid thing that meditates actual flight. Then Gerard was frightened at the alarm he caused. “Forgive me,” said he imploringly. “How could any one help loving you?” “Well, sir, I will try and forgive you--you are so good in other respects; but then you must promise me never to say you--to say that again.” “Give me your hand then, or you don't forgive me.” She hesitated; but eventually put out her hand a very little way, very slowly, and with seeming reluctance. He took it, and held it prisoner. When she thought it had been there long enough, she tried gently to draw it away. He held it tight: it submitted quite patiently to force. What is the use resisting force. She turned her head away, and her long eyelashes drooped sweetly. Gerard lost nothing by his promise. Words were not needed here; and silence was more eloquent. Nature was in that day what she is in ours; but manners were somewhat freer. Then as now, virgins drew back alarmed at the first words of love; but of prudery and artificial coquetry there was little, and the young soon read one another's hearts. Everything was on Gerard's side, his good looks, her belief in his goodness, her gratitude; and opportunity for at the Duke's banquet this mellow summer eve, all things disposed the female nature to tenderness: the avenues to the heart lay open; the senses were so soothed and subdued with lovely colours, gentle sounds, and delicate odours; the sun gently sinking, the warm air, the green canopy, the cool music of the now violet fountain. Gerard and Margaret sat hand in hand in silence; and Gerard's eyes sought hers lovingly; and hers now and then turned on him timidly and imploringly and presently two sweet unreasonable tears rolled down her cheeks, and she smiled while they were drying: yet they did not take long. And the sun declined; and the air cooled; and the fountain plashed more gently; and the pair throbbed in unison and silence, and this weary world looked heaven to them. Oh, the merry days, the merry days when we were young. Oh, the merry days, the merry days when we were young. CHAPTER III