Edith spoke with downcast eyes and deep embarrassment and frequent hesitation. Her last words died away almost into a whisper. But the agitation of Dudleigh was now even greater than her own. A change came over him that was terrible to witness. As he took her hand he trembled, almost convulsively, from head to foot. His face became ghastly white, he pressed his hand against his heart, his breathing was thick and oppressed, big drops of perspiration started forth upon his brow, and at last, to Edith's amazement, he burst into tears, and sobbed aloud. Then he dropped her hand, and turned away, murmuring some inarticulate words. At this Edith's confusion passed away, and changed to wonder. What was the meaning of this? Tears and sobs--and from a man! But the thought at once occurred that this was his sensitiveness, and that it arose from her telling him so plainly that she did not love him. “I can not love him, and he knows it,” she thought, “and it breaks his heart, poor fellow! How I wish I could console him!” Suddenly Dudleigh dashed his hand across his eyes, and walked swiftly onward. Edith followed as fast as she could, keeping him in sight, but falling farther and farther behind. At length he turned and came back to meet her. His eyes were downcast, and there was misery unspeakable on his white face. As he came up to her he held out his hand, and looked at her with a strange, woful gaze. Edith took the hand which he held out. “Miss Dalton,” said he, “you said you would be mine.” [Illustration: “THEN HE DROPPED HER HAND, AND TURNED AWAY.”] Edith's lips moved, but no sound escaped them. “All that you have said, Miss Dalton,” he continued, “I feel most deeply, most keenly; but how else could it have been? Yet if you will indeed be mine, I will give you my love and gratitude. I will save you from--from danger; I will--will--bless you.” He stopped, and looked at her with quivering lips, while an expression of agony came across his face. But Edith's eyes were downcast now, and she did not see this new anguish of his; her own distress was too great. Dudleigh dropped her hand again. “Where shall it be?” said he, hurriedly and nervously. “It can not be in the Hall. Will you venture to pass the gates with me?--I will force my way through--or are you afraid?” “I can not consent to bloodshed,” said Edith. “I thought of that,” said Dudleigh, “and I have one more plan--if you will only consent. It is not much to you who have suffered so much. It will make your way to freedom easy. Can we not meet in the park somewhere--in some secluded place?” “In the park?” repeated Edith, abstractedly. “I can bring a clergyman inside,” said Dudleigh, in a low voice.