“Amelia feared she was not beloved by you. Your having proceeded on your travels during her illness without so much as taking leave of her, made her already suspect your indifference. This suspicion gained additional strength by your never having wrote a single line to her after your departure. Your behaviour during your present stay with us too, has cured her of that error as little as the information of your departure.” “Should it be possible my love could have escaped Amelia’s looks?” “It did not escape my observation.----I gathered carefully all the marks of it, and communicated them to my friend. However, they appeared to her to be nothing farther than proofs of gallantry, which every well-educated man is wont to offer at the shrine of beauty. ‘Is it possible,’ she said, ‘that true, ardent love, could refrain so long from coming to an explanation?’ And indeed, my Lord, can you say any thing against this objection?” “My Lady, I could not entertain the least idea of such an explanation, while the misunderstanding concerning the murderer of Count Clairval was not removed, although I had not been ignorant of the residence of Amelia, which was unknown to me ever since the removal from the castle in the forest, and the mysterious conduct of the Countess has prevented me from declaring now, what I ardently wished to avow publicly ever since I got acquainted with her. What has made _you_ guess my happiness has induced _me_ to apprehend my misfortune----I even feared to offend the Countess by my presence. I expected secret dislike to me, at most pity, but never a return of my love.” “I see you are but a novice in love,” Lady Delier said smiling, “and I have of course acted wisely that I opened your eyes!” “O! my dearest Baroness!” I replied, kissing her hand, my gratitude will end only with my life.” “Silence! Silence!” she exclaimed, putting her hand on my lips, “I have told you, as yet, only good news----the worst is coming now!” “What can that be?” I asked with consternation. “You shall hear Amelia’s own words: ‘The Duke’ said she, ‘does not love me, and even if he should have a passion for me, and avow it, he should hear the confession of my reciprocal tenderness, but never receive my hand. I am indeed released of my vow, but my present liberty will raise my fidelity to my deceased Lord, which was till now mere duty, to merit, and I will remain constant to him, as far as it will be in my power. I cannot command my love for the Duke, however my hand is at my disposal.” “Heavens! how you have damped my happiness!” I replied after a painful pause. “Should a mere whim of the Countess really be able to dishearten your Grace? You do not consider how soon the love of a living adorer can subdue the fidelity to a deceased husband. Amelia’s heart is yours, and her hand will certainly follow.”