What was Sir William Arden doing? I verily believe he was making love in his own peculiar way; for, every now and then, in the midst of smiles at some odd frank speech, a faint blush fluttered over Constance's fair cheek, as if she felt that, in his warmer words, there was an allusion to herself. Chartley and Iola passed them by, each party so full of their own thoughts as not to notice the other. "It was indeed," said Chartley, "a night ever to be remembered--at least by me--a night full of sensations new, and deep, and thrilling; sensations known but once in a whole lifetime. Nor do I think that you will ever forget it. Did I not tell you, that it was one of those points of time which raise their heads above the waste of the past, and are seen like a mountain peak, till man is at the end of his journey?" "It cannot be forgot, indeed," replied Iola, and cast her eyes down thoughtfully. "Strange words you spoke that night," continued Chartley; "words that to me were then like the mysterious figures upon Egyptian stones, of which I could interpret nothing. Now, alas, I have got the key." "What words?" demanded Iola. "What words of mine can even from memory produce so sad a tone?" and she looked up in his face, with the feeling of her heart but too plainly written in her eyes. "You spoke," replied Chartley, "words that have rung in my ear ever since, 'Happy are those who have no ties to bind them!' I now knew of what ties you spoke--" and he added, almost vehemently, "Oh that I could rend them, and scatter them to the winds." "Chartley!" said Iola, pausing for an instant, and then immediately resuming her walk. "Forgive me!" said Chartley. "I know I am wrong. I know it is very wrong, even to feel what I feel, and that to speak it is worse. Forgive me." "There is nothing to forgive," replied Iola, in a very low tone. "You have done no wrong, that I know of." "Oh yes, I have," answered Chartley. "I have agitated and alarmed you by my rash words. You tremble, even now." "Every wind will move a willow," answered Iola. "If I tremble, Chartley, it is not from what you think; but, I say you have done no wrong, and I mean it." "What, not to acknowledge love to the wife of another?" said Chartley. "I, I, his wife!" said Iola, with a start. "No, no, I am not, and never will be. The sin were, if I vowed to love where I cannot love, if I promised what cannot be performed;" and, casting her eyes to the ground again, she clasped her hands together, and walked on by his side in silence. "What then," said Chartley, after a moment's thought, "has not the church's sanction of your contract been pronounced?"