Presently Constance made her appearance. Her features were excessively pale, and bore evident traces of grief, but she was perfectly composed, and Atherton thought he had never seen her look so beautiful. She saluted him gravely, but more distantly than before. "I cannot condole with you on the terrible event that has occurred," he said; "but I can offer you my profound sympathy. And let me say at once that I freely and fully forgive your unfortunate father for all the wrong he has done me." "I thank you for the assurance," she rejoined. "'Tis an infinite relief to me, and proves the goodness of your heart." "Do not dwell upon this, Constance," he said. "Hereafter we will talk over the matter--not now. Should you feel equal to the journey, I hope you will immediately return to Rawcliffe." "I will return thither, with your kind permission, to see my poor father laid in the family vault. That sad duty performed, I shall quit the house for ever." "No, Constance--that must not be," he rejoined. "My object in coming hither this morning is to tell you that I do not design to dispossess you of the house and property. On the contrary, you will be as much the mistress of Rawcliffe Hall as ever--more so, perhaps. Nay, do not interrupt me--I have not finished. Many things may happen. I may meet a soldier's fate. The hazardous enterprise I am bent upon may fail--I may be captured--may die as a rebel on the scaffold. If I should not return, the house and all within it--all the domains attached to it--are yours. By that deed I have made them over to you." And he pointed to the packet which he had laid upon the table. Constance was greatly moved. Tears rushed to her eyes, and for a few minutes she was so overpowered that she could not speak. Atherton took her hand, which she did not attempt to withdraw. "I am profoundly touched by your generosity," she said. "But I cannot accept your gift." "Nay you must accept it, dearest Constance," he said. "You well know you have my heart's love, and I think you will not refuse to be mine." "'Twould be too great happiness to be yours," she rejoined. "But no--no--I ought not to consent." By way of reply, he pressed her to his heart, and kissed her passionately. "Now will you refuse?" he cried. "How can I, since you have wrested my consent from me?" she rejoined. "But how am I to address you?" "You must still call me Atherton Legh," he replied. "Well, then, dearest Atherton, my heart misgives me. In urging you to join this expedition I fear I have done wrong. Should any misfortune happen to you I shall deem myself the cause of it. I tremble to think of the consequences of my folly. Must you go?" she added, looking imploringly at him. "Yes," he replied. "Not even you, dearest Constance, can turn me from my purpose. The prince has relieved me from my engagement, but I cannot honourably retire. Come what may, I shall go on."