She really wished she could love him; I need not say not from any unworthy motives, but from gratitude for his kindness and his affection for herself; and although hardly believing that any change was possible, she yet engaged to allow him the opportunity to effect it which he desired. One other mistake she committed――one likewise resulting from delicacy and regard to his feelings: she promised to keep what had passed between them a profound secret, even from her father. She fancied she was doing right; a dislike to say what might seem to claim her father’s thanks, a dread of appearing to boast of her attractions and the admiration she had inspired, had a little influence; she felt how unmaidenly it was to triumph in her conquests; but the chief reason for her silence was regard to Mr. Huyton’s feelings, and a fear of mortifying him by making known his disappointment. It was the romantic delicacy of a young mind much accustomed to act and decide for itself――used to bear its own burdens in silence, and to endure rather than to indulge its feelings. Her theory was right; secresy in such a case being, in general, honorable and just; but hers was one of the exceptions which prove a rule; and in her peculiar circumstances, it would have been her father’s part to decide how their future intercourse should be arranged, as it was his due to know the footing on which they now stood. Mr. Huyton was well aware of the advantage which he gained when he won from Hilary’s gratitude and delicacy the promise that nothing should be said to others of this conversation. Conscious how unfair this requisition was, he quitted her, immediately she had given it, with many a word of gratitude, passionate affection, and intense admiration, and many an assurance of the changeless nature of the feelings he professed.