"Mother, I dare no longer ask you to believe my simple word, as in former years you would have done, I have deceived you too long, too culpably for that; but now, on my knees, solemnly, sacredly I swear, I will never marry without papa's and your consent. I dare no longer trust myself; I have once been rendered blind by that sinful craving for freedom from all authority, for unchecked independence of thought and word and deed, and never, never more will I stand forth in my own weakness. My fate is in your hands, for never will I marry without your blessing; and may that vow be registered above as solemnly as it is now taken. Mother, you will not refuse to accept it," she added, laying her trembling hand on Mrs. Hamilton's, and gazing beseechingly in her face. "I will not, my child!" and her mother struggled severely to conquer her emotion and speak calmly. "Tell me only it is in my affection you confide, that it is not under feelings of remorse alone you have made this solemn vow. Promise me you will no longer permit a doubt of my affection and interest in your happiness to enter your mind and poison your confidence in me, as it has done. From that doubt all the present misery has proceeded. You have imagined your parents harsh and cruel, while they have only thought of your welfare. Say only you will trust in our affection, my child, my own Caroline." "Oh, that I had ever trusted in it. My blindness and folly concealed from me my misconduct, and bade me ascribe all my sufferings to you, on whom I have inflicted so much pain. Mother, oh, forgive me, plead for me to papa. I know he is seriously displeased, he has every right to be so; but he knows not all I have endured, the agony of the last week. I deserve his severest reproaches, but my heart feels as if it would break beneath his anger now," and she laid her aching head on her mother's lap, and wept. "My forgiveness, my blessing, are both yours, my own. Do not weep thus," replied Mrs. Hamilton, imprinting a kiss on that burning forehead. "And your father too, when he has heard all, will not withhold his love." "I will write to Lord Alphingham now, mother; it is useless to defer it, and my mind will not regain its peace till it is done," exclaimed Caroline, after a brief pause, which had followed her mother's words. "Not now, my love, you are too agitated still," replied her mother, gazing anxiously on her flushed cheek; "wait till sleep shall have calmed this inward fever, and restored you to composure. I do not think you can write it now." "I cannot sleep till I have, mamma, indeed I cannot. I ought to have left it for him before I quitted Airslie, but I could then think of nothing but the ardent longing to see you, to hear your voice again; let me write now."