“No, no, Dora, you must not say so, I will not hold you bound; dear as your words are, sweetest! you must take them back; no promise must be given or accepted which truth and honor do not sanction. Time alters all, every thing; and when I am gone, and you learn to see my character as it deserves, unblinded by your own sweet fancies, and that delightful kindness which has moved you to pity a poor sailor like me, then you must still think of me as of one who would not, even for his dearest hopes, allow you to fetter yourself with a bond you might regret, with a promise which, being wrong, could bring no happiness with it. Dora, your peace of mind is dearer than my own!” “Good, kind, generous,” was all she could say. “Give me that ribbon from your wrist,” added he. She hurriedly undid the blue ribbon that she wore round her left arm, put it for one moment to her lips, then tossed it to him, and turned with hasty steps toward the house. He followed her quietly until he saw her enter the saloon, and turning off by another path, he escaped, to consider what had passed, and console himself with the blue ribbon as he could. CHAPTER XII. “Ah, on which, if both our lots were balanced, Was, indeed, the heaviest burthen thrown? Thou a weeping exile in thy forest, I a smiling queen upon my throne.” ISEULT. The amendment in Hilary’s health continued to advance so favorably that the next day she was considered well enough to see her father without risk from excitement, and then she began clearly to understand the fact that her whole family were at “the Ferns.” She did not at first make any audible comments on the circumstance, but toward evening she took the opportunity of no one but Sybil being present, to make her tell her who had proposed this arrangement, and what had been said on the subject. Sybil said it had been entirely Charles Huyton’s own idea; and nothing could be kinder or more hospitable than he was, making it most pleasant for them all, and avowing that, were it not for Hilary’s illness, he should be the happiest man possible, with such a family round him. Miss Duncan lay silent for some minutes, then observed―― “Were it not that my illness makes it inevitable we should not be here at all.” “So Nest proved to him,” remarked Sybil; “and she added, somewhat uncourteously, she would rather have you well, and be at home.” “Nest must not be rude, but it is well she thinks so. I must get well as fast as possible. I shall leave this room to-morrow, I hope, Sybil.” “How glad we shall be to have you down stairs,” said her sister. “I shall not go down till I am well enough to go home,” replied Hilary, decidedly; “I hope to get into the dressing-room to-morrow, and on Monday, if Mr. Huyton will lend us his carriage, we can all go back to the Vicarage.” “I am sure I shall be glad if we can,” was Sybil’s answer. She partly understood the motives of Hilary’s conduct.