He spoke with a smile; but there are smiles in the world more melancholy than a world of sighs; and his was so full of pain, anxiety, and disappointment, that Blanche, as she turned away, made the only answer in her power--by tears. The drops from her eyes fell thick, and as her left hand rested on the little carved border of the stone font, over which her head still hung, partially averted to hide the deep and varying feelings that passed across her face, the tears dimpled the clear, still waters; and though Burrel, as he stood, could not see her eyes, he perceived that she was weeping bitterly. His fingers, which had rested lightly on her arm, to prevent her from drinking the water, now glided down, and circled round her hand, clasping upon it with a degree of gentle firmness. "Miss Delaware," he said, "for Heaven's sake, tell me, have my hopes been all in vain?--Have I, like a presumptuous fool, dreamed of happiness far greater than I deserve to possess! And do you now, by the striking change which your demeanor toward me has undergone, intend to rebuke my boldness in fancying that you might ever become mine; and to crush the hopes which your former kindness inspired?" Blanche Delaware wept, but she answered not a word; and Burrel gazed on her for a moment in silence, in a state of agitation which might have well prevented him from judging sanely of what was passing in her mind, even had it been expressed by more unequivocal signs than the bitter though silent tears that rolled over her cheeks. "For God's sake, speak!" he exclaimed at length. "Oh, Blanche, if you did but know the agony you are inflicting on a heart that loves you better than any other earthly thing, you would at least save me the torment of suspense--may I--dare I--hope that you will be mine?" Blanche Delaware passed her hand across her brow, and brushed back the rich long ringlets that, as she stooped, had fallen partially over her eyes. She turned toward her lover also, still grasping the edge of the fountain with her left hand for support, and, with something between a gasp and a sob, replied to his question at once--"No, Mr. Burrel, no! You must not hope!--Oh, forgive me!" she added, seeing the deadly paleness that spread over his countenance. "Forgive me! Forgive me! But for your sake--for your own sake--for both our sakes, it is better said at once--I must not--I can not--" The rest died upon her lips. Enough, however, had been spoken to make the rejection decisive; and yet it was spoken in such a tone as to betray deep grief as well as agitation on her own part; and to awaken--not suspicions--but a thousand vague and whirling fancies in Burrel's brain. "And will not Miss Delaware," he said, at length, "at least console me for broken hopes, and the first love of my heart crushed forever, by assigning some cause for this change in her opinion of one who is unconscious of having done any thing to offend or pain her?"