"Sit down here, Louise," I said, "on these dry fragments of the fir-trees, and let us speak more calmly. Look here, dear girl; this sword that you see is the sole inheritance of him who loves you better than life. Already, however, that sword has raised him to some renown, and won him some wealth: on it he trusts for more: he trusts to win with it higher rank and station, fortune sufficient for a moderate ambition, and a right to demand the hand of her he loves. That, that, Louise, is the end and object of all my endeavours; that is the hope that animates me, and will carry me on to greatness if I am permitted to indulge it. It is that hope which has made me what I now am; it is that hope which will make my efforts far greater: it is for your love, Louise, that I strive; it is that you may be mine entirely, heart of my heart, and soul of my soul, that my arms may be your resting-place for life, and that no one may ever, ever tear you from my bosom. "Oh, tell me, dear Louise--give me that one bright consolation, that one surpassing motive for every kind of exertion--tell me, tell me, does the change which you admit has taken place in your feelings towards me, does it tend to the same as my own wishes; does it make you feel that you could be happy as mine--not as a sister, but as a bride--not as a mere companion, but as the one united to me for life, and through life, by every link of love in one, being the sister, the companion, the friend, the wife? Oh, tell me, Louise, tell me. Is it so? Does the change in your feelings towards me speak to your own heart, and say that you can love me with such love, ardent, deep, intense, passionate as my own?" Louise did not answer--she could not answer--for some time; for the tears were rolling over her cheeks, the tears of strong emotion; but her hand was clasped in mine, her head leaned upon my shoulder. The cheek burned, the eyes were bent down, and the lip quivered; but there was not a sign of all the many which her demeanour gave that could teach me anything but hope; and yet I was impatient to hear more. I repeated my question in a different form; I kissed her cheek again and again; I urged her to speak. It was long ere she did so, however; till at length, looking up at me, she said, almost reproachfully, "Oh, Henry, Henry, you know, you feel, you are aware, well, well aware, that I love you as deeply, truly, fully, as any woman can love man; that, had I my will, I would never part with you, I would never leave you. What can I say more?"