The young girl broke away without listening for a reply, and hurried to her room. When she was alone she threw herself on her bed and burst into tears, exclaiming, "God forgive me!--how could I tell him such a falsehood? I do,--I do love him! What made me so foolish, so mad, as to refuse him?" At dinner they met. You could hardly tell anything was wrong, to listen to those two, speaking so merrily; but, could you have read their hearts,--what a tale of wretchedness was there! Young Ravensworth felt utterly cast down at heart: he had heard from the lips he best loved to hear the words that spoke his doom! He had proved her he thought faithful, false! His trust in womankind was gone; but he felt he must veil his feelings. "I will show her," thought he, "I can laugh, and sing, and, with false smiles on my face, throw a light on sorrow's dark tide. I will not let the cold world know my misery; but, after once finding the fickleness of the sex, I will not try it again." Alas! Ravensworth did not know how often a proud beautiful girl rejects the love she would accept from a vanity man knows not--the vanity and pleasure of playing with hearts! Lady Florence felt grieved that she should have dallied with deep feelings, all for the silly pleasure of seeing her powers; but she felt faith in those powers, and thought her smiles would tempt the moth, even after singeing its wings, once more to woo the flame. Alas! Lady Florence knew not there are hearts which, once refused, are too haughty to ask again. Time was short--two days only--and early on the morning of the third John Ravensworth must start. Florence, by all means in her power, strove to rekindle the flame her refusal seemed to have quenched. Young Ravensworth was partly surprised, partly angered at this, to his idea, heartless trifling. A word would have set all right; had he asked again she would have become his betrothed, but he asked not. Had she only whispered, "I do love you," he would again have asked--she spoke not. And thus whilst she fancied he was too proud to ask, and resolved to lower that pride by appearing everything he wished, all to make him ask once more, he fancied it was cruelty in her appearing so affectionate, all to induce him to ask again, that she might once more have the pleasure of refusing, and he resolved he would not give her the chance. Thus a mutual feeling of restraint prevented each of them from saying the word or making the concession on which their future joy or sorrow depended! Time, which stays his course not for mortal man, wore on; the day--the last day--hurried by! The excitement of packing, preparing, and looking at the beautiful presents showered on him from all sides, partly distracted Ravensworth from gnawing care; yet through all he felt that sinking, aching void within which only one could fill. He had no present from her he valued most, not even a flower! and a flower from her were worth the wealth of Golconda from others.