"I cannot," she replied; "I cannot, while--while he thinks of me as he must--as he ought!" She wept bitterly, and Marian stood by perplexed and distressed. "Dear Caroline," was the utmost that she could say. "Marian!" cried Caroline, looking up for a moment, then hiding her face again--"I would give anything in the world that he had been at home last summer; or that you had slept at High Down that night." A flash of hope and joy came across Marian. "If you think so," she began, but Caroline cut her short. "I know what you mean, but that it? impossible, quite Impossible--decidedly so," she added, as if these assurances were to strengthen her own belief in its impossibility, and not arguing, from a consciousness that her friend would overthrow every one of her arguments. "I don't know what made me come to you, and tease you," said she, rising and taking her letter; "good night." "Tease me! O, Caroline, Caroline, you know--" What she knew was lost in a most affectionate embrace; but Caroline would not stay any longer, and left Marian as usual, regretting everything that had passed. The nest night, however, Caroline came again, as if there was some irresistible spell that drew her to Marian. It was Sunday, and Marian had long since observed that on such days Caroline was always most out of spirits. She sat down, and let a long time pass without talking; but at last she said, "Marian, it is very kind in you to let me come and sit here. You cannot--no--you will never know how wretched I am." "My dear, dear Caroline, if I could but do anything for you! but," she proceeded, gathering resolution from her day's reflections, "you are the only person who can do anything for yourself." "Impossible!" repeated Caroline. Marian was not exactly silenced, but involved in deep considerations as to the propriety of interfering, and whether attempting to persuade Caroline would be doing evil that good might come. Before she had made up her mind,--as, indeed, how could she in five minutes come to a conclusion to which hours of previous perplexity had failed to bring her?--Caroline spoke again, "If it had but never begun! but now it has, it must go on." "I don't know--" "It must, I tell you!" repeated Caroline. "If it had all to begin over again, it would be very different. O, if it was but this time last year!" "But Caroline, Caroline," repeated Marian, carried away by the thought that rose to her lips, "only think; you say now if it was this time last year--now, while you can escape. Shall not you say so all the more when it is really too late,--when you will wish you had drawn back now?" "You have no right to say I should wish, that!" said Caroline, offended. "You don't know what the love is that you are holding so cheaply."