“Beautiful! did you say, my lord? Would, indeed, that I were infinitely beautiful, that I possessed genius and accomplishments equal to that beauty, and wealth and power to match both, for your sake, Montressor; for I should say then as now,—‘all that I am and all that I have belong less to me than to my dear and honored lord! I am his own, his own! I am cradled in his heart! I live, breathe, think, love only in and from his great life.’” “You are, indeed, sweet Stella, the heart of my heart!” “Would your Stella were more worthy of you.” “More worthy of me? Do not talk so, love! Women are queens, always too good, for men; and you of women, most queenly, and should not bate your state, to speak to your subject in this style,” said Lord Montressor. “Woman should not reveal her heart so plainly even to him who possesses it! Is that your meaning, my lord, and is it so?—for I, you see, do not know! I only know intimately one woman—myself, and now I am not so much myself as you? Shall I practice reserve with _you_?” “No, no, dearest; too long you have practiced reserve.” “Well, that is over. I have laid my soul open to your view! I have shown you a sorrow that I dared not trust to father or mother; even as we let the holy eye of God see things which we conceal from our dearest friends.” “But now your parents must be informed of all, dear Stella.” “Oh! no, no, no! It would kill the one and craze the other,” exclaimed Estelle, white with terror. “No, no; none but your own kindly heart could bear the revelation!” “Fear nothing, dear Stella. They need not be told just yet; with their feelings, the disclosure of such a story concerning their daughter, Miss Morelle, might indeed be attended with serious consequences. I shall wait until the law has invested me with the exclusive right to watch over your honor, peace and welfare, and to protect you, if need be, even against the severity of your father, and the reproaches of your mother, before I make the disclosure, and then, the story told them of Lady Montressor by the lips of her husband, who here pledges himself to bear her blameless and harmless through all—will come very much softened to their ears.” “Ah, Heaven! Lord Montressor, will you do this?” “It must be done, beloved! Your parents must know all; your life must be cleared and calmed. I take that task upon myself. Resign yourself to my charge; trust in me; lay your weary, young head on my breast, and let your spirit sleep if you will; for no harm can come to you in the shelter of my love!” “Oh! you are so good and great! Would I were better and wiser for your sake! You should have an angel for a wife!” Lord Montressor smiled. “I do not aspire to an angel, or to any better or happier woman. I love you just so, with the mournful earth beauty in your eyes.” The opening of the door startled them, and Lady Morelle entered.