'Listen to me, Mr. Smith. We must part to-day, and for ever. This intimacy has gone on--too long, I am afraid, for your happiness. And now, like all pleasant things in this miserable world, it must cease. I cannot tell you why; but you will trust me. I thank you for it--I thank God for it. I have learnt things from it which I shall never forget. I have learnt, at least from it, to esteem and honour you. You have vast powers. Nothing, nothing, I believe, is too high for you to attempt and succeed. But we must part; and now, God be with you. Oh, that you would but believe that these glorious talents are His loan! That you would but be a true and loyal knight to him who said--"Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls!"--Ay,' she went on, more and more passionately, for she felt that not she, but One mightier than herself was speaking through her, 'then you might be great indeed. Then I might watch your name from afar, rising higher and higher daily in the ranks of God's own heroes. I see it--and you have taught me to see it--that you are meant for a faith nobler and deeper than all doctrines and systems can give. You must become the philosopher, who can discover new truths--the artist who can embody them in new forms, while poor I--And that is another reason why we should part.--Hush! hear me out. I must not be a clog, to drag you down in your course. Take this, and farewell; and remember that you once had a friend called Argemone.' She put into his hands a little Bible. He took it, and laid it down on the table. For a minute he stood silent and rooted to the spot. Disappointment, shame, rage, hatred, all boiled up madly within him. The bitterest insults rose to his lips--'Flirt, cold-hearted pedant, fanatic!' but they sank again unspoken, as he looked into the celestial azure of those eyes, calm and pure as a soft evening sky. A mighty struggle between good and evil shook his heart to the roots; and, for the first time in his life, his soul breathed out one real prayer, that God would help him now or never to play the man. And in a moment the darkness passed; a new spirit called out all the latent strength within him; and gently and proudly he answered her,-- 'Yes, I will go. I have had mad dreams, conceited and insolent, and have met with my deserts. Brute and fool as I am, I have aspired even to you! And I have gained, in the sunshine of your condescension, strength and purity.--Is not that enough for me? And now I will show you that I love you--by obeying you. You tell me to depart--I go for ever.' He turned away. Why did she almost spring after him? 'Lancelot! one word! Do not misunderstand me, as I know you will. You will think me so cold, heartless, fickle.--Oh, you do not know-- you never can know--how much I, too, have felt!'