"This right hand," I replied, pressing it firmly on the table; "and now, my good father, in this business I must act without control. Willingly will I ask your advice, willingly will I listen to your counsels, but I must determine upon the results myself; and remember, in anything that passes between us on this subject, or anything connected therewith, as a friend, as a preceptor, as a monitor, I expect, and shall receive your assistance whenever it agrees with your own views of right and wrong to give it; and as a Christian pastor and an honest man, I expect the most profound secrecy in all things. I know that with you I shall have no double dealing or prevarication, no pious frauds, as I might expect among the priests of our enemies and persecutors." "But what do you propose to do, Henry?" demanded the pastor. "What am I to suppose are your intentions?" "I know not as yet, good friend," I replied, "and I even now hesitate whether to tell Louise at once what are my changed feelings towards her, and to ascertain what are her feelings towards me, or to leave matters to take their course." "Nor know I well what to advise, my son," replied La Tour. "It is woful and terrible to think that one so beautiful, so pure, so innocent, should be forced to wed one of a different creed, who, in the very first instance, will doubtless pervert, or try to pervert, her religious principles, and then, perhaps, the purity of her mind; who will ultimately neglect, abandon, perhaps ill-treat her, and who will never, can never make her happy. It is a sad fate, De Cerons, a sad and terrible fate, especially for one who loves another." "Can I feel certain that she loves me?" I said, more musing than questioning the good man. "Enough to make her unhappy with another, am I very sure," replied La Tour; "and that is one reason, Henry, why I am almost inclined to counsel you to speak with her on the subject of your mutual affection. She may feel deeply that she loves you, but may not discover how much till she has become the bride of another. I, of course, can never counsel her to disobey her father, unless I were to see, beyond all doubt and casuistry, that her soul's salvation was endangered by it; but I think there might be a safeguard in knowing her own feelings towards you and yours towards her, which might guide her rightly even where I dare not counsel and you scarcely dare act--I know not, Henry--yet I know not." "I will think of it, my good friend," I replied, "I will think of it often during the night; and I will endeavour, as far as possible, to cast away every selfish consideration; so fare you well for this evening, for I have duties that now call upon me." CHAPTER XIII.