"No," answered Edith, eagerly; "no, I have not. He took my words as consent, though ere they were half finished, the horror and pain of all I heard overcame me, and I fainted. But I did not consent, Harry--I could not consent, without your permission.--Oh, Harry, aid and support me!" "Listen to me, my beloved," replied Leyton; "wealth, got by any means, is this man's object. I gather from what you say, that your father has some cause to dread him--give up to him this much-coveted fortune--let him take it--ay, and share Henry Leyton's little wealth. I desire nothing but yourself." "Alas, Henry, it is all in vain!" answered Edith; "I have offered it--I knew your noble, generous heart. I knew that wealth would make no difference to him I loved, and offered to resign everything. My father, even before he came hither, offered him my sister--offered to make her the sacrifice, as she is bound by no promises, and to give her an equal portion; but it was all refused." "Then there is some other object," said her lover; "some object that may, perhaps, tend even to more misery than you dream of, Edith. Believe me, my beloved--oh! believe me, did I but see how I could deliver you--were I sure that any act of mine would give you peace, no sacrifice on my part would seem too great. At present, however, I see nothing clearly--all is darkness and shadow around. I know not, that if I give you back your promise, and free you from your vow, that I shall not be contributing to make you wretched. How, then, am I to act? You are sure, dear one, that you have not consented?" "Quite sure," answered Edith; "and it so happened, that there was one who heard my words as well as my father. He, indeed, took them as consent, and hurried away to Mr. Radford, without giving me time to recover and say more. Read that, Harry," and she put the note her father had left into his hands. "It is fortunate you were heard by another," replied Leyton. "Hark! there is your uncle's carriage coming.--Four days, did he say--four days? Well, then, dear Edith, will you trust in me? Will you leave your fate in the hands of one who will do anything on earth for your happiness?--and will you never doubt, though you may be kept in suspense, that I will so act as to deliver you, if I can, without bringing ruin on your father." "It is worse than ruin," answered Edith, with the tears rolling down her cheeks--"it is death. But I will trust to you, Henry--I will trust implicitly. But tell me how to act--tell me what I am to do."