The maiden walked softly up to him. "We were brought up together," she said to him in a gentle and penetrating voice, "we grew up together, ever equally sharing our joys and sorrows; is that true, Melchior?" "It is," he murmured faintly. "Why, then," she continued, "have you become so taciturn during the last few days? Why do you shun me? Why do you fly on my approach?" "I?" "You, brother, who ought to keep nothing hidden from me." "Oh!" "I repeat that you ought to keep nothing from me, for I am your oldest, perhaps your only friend." "It is true, oh! It is true, Diana," he exclaimed, as he clasped his hands with passionate fervour, "you are my only friend." "Why then keep a secret from me?" "A secret!" he exclaimed, as he recoiled in horror. "Yes, a secret; and I have discovered it, though you fancied you had locked it up in your heart." The young man turned pale. "Oh! Take care, Niña," he exclaimed, "this secret I dare not confess to myself." "That is the very reason why I discovered it, Melchior," she answered, with an adorable expression. "Oh! It is impossible, Diana; you cannot know--" "That you love me!" she interrupted him with an outburst. "Why not, since I love you?" And she gazed at him with the sublime confidence of a chaste and true love--that divine and fugitive beam which God, in his ineffable goodness, only allows to shine in innocent and candid hearts. The young lover tottered like a drunken man; for a moment he thought he must be dreaming, for so much happiness surpassed all that he had ever dared to hope. "You love me, Diana!" he at length exclaimed. "You love me! Oh! An eternity of suffering for this second of happiness!" And he fell on his knees in front of the maiden. She looked at him for a moment with an expression of indescribable passion, and then offered him her hand, which he covered with burning kisses. "Rise, Melchior," she said to him, with considerable emotion. "Rise, my beloved. Let this holy love which binds us, and which we have mutually confessed, remain a secret from everybody. A day will come, and soon, I hope, when we shall be permitted to proclaim it openly; but till then let us hide our happiness." The young man rose. "I love you, Diana," he said. "I am your slave; order me, and I will obey." "Alas, my beloved," she continued, with a sad shake of her head, "I can give you no orders, entreaty alone is permitted me." "Oh, speak, speak, Diana," he exclaimed. The maiden passed her arm through his with a sanguine, childish confidence. "Come," she said, "accompany me a few paces, and we will talk about my mother." Melchior shook his head sorrowfully, but said nothing. "Poor mother!" Diana murmured. "Oh, yes, most unhappy," the young man remarked with a sigh. "I think you love my mother, dearest?" "Is it not to her that I am indebted for being what I am?"