refuted, and might injure himself. There was a spirit in the bosom of that young girl which she knew not of, both firm and enduring, enabling her to resist tyranny with determination; but she first made use of the feminine weapons most natural to her age and habits. "Oh, my father, I love you, and have always sought to obey your wishes; but do not now require of me what I cannot do,--cause me not now to act in disobedience to your commands. Oh! alter that decision, which it would break my heart to obey. It is impossible that I should love the count, and you would not make me wed one for whom I can never feel affection?" The fidalgo looked at her with amazement. He had never supposed it possible that she should offer any resistance to his wishes, though they might not at first please her. It is just probable that, had she not mentally daguerreo-typed that likeness of Don Luis at Leiria, she might not have thought of opposing the commands of her father, who, however, never made any such calculation; nor had the said Don Luis even occurred to his recollection, as he knew him to be the son of a poor noble, whose property was much involved. "What is this nonsense I hear about love and affection? What objections can you have to the count? He is young, handsome, and rich, as you know; and as you have scarcely seen him, it is not possible that you can dislike him; so that you will soon learn to love him as much as is necessary; and what further would you wish? Come, come, Clara, I have always been an indulgent father to you,--do not let me now find you a disobedient child, in the most important affair of your life. Am not I the fittest person to choose a husband for you? and tell me, how could you, who can know nothing of the world, select one for yourself? Such an idea would be unmaidenly and highly incorrect, and one in which no young lady would dream of indulging; and I have pledged my word to the count, therefore you must marry him." Clara did not see the clearness of her father's reasoning. "I would do all to please you," she again answered; "I would die, and, oh! willingly, for your sake; but this I cannot do." "Clara, beware you do not make me utter such words as I thought never to speak to you. My honour is dearer to me than my life: it is dearer even than my child's life or happiness; and my honour is pledged to the count. It must be so." "Oh, my father, I must die, then, if I obey you!" returned the fair girl, faintly. The fidalgo's heart was softened, and, for the moment, he repented of his pledge; but it must be redeemed, if the count demanded it.