rried with mine even when its glory
and power were at the highest; what could your mother object to my
alliance?"

"I did not say object," said Lucy; "but she is jealous of her rights,
and may claim a mother's title to be consulted in the first instance."

"Be it so," replied Ravenswood. "London is distant, but a letter will
reach it and receive an answer within a fortnight; I will not press on
the Lord Keeper for an instant reply to my proposal."

"But," hesitated Lucy, "were it not better to wait--to wait a few weeks?
Were my mother to see you--to know you, I am sure she would approve;
but you are unacquainted personally, and the ancient feud between the
families----"

Ravenswood fixed upon her his keen dark eyes, as if he was desirous of
penetrating into her very soul.

"Lucy," he said, "I have sacrificed to you projects of vengeance long
nursed, and sworn to with ceremonies little better than heathen--I
sacrificed them to your image, ere I knew the worth which it
represented. In the evening which succeeded my poor father's funeral, I
cut a lock from my hair, and, as it consumed in the fire, I swore that
my rage and revenge should pursue his enemies, until they shrivelled
before me like that scorched-up symbol of annihilation."

"It was a deadly sin," said Lucy, turning pale, "to make a vow so
fatal."

"I acknowledge it," said Ravenswood, "and it had been a worse crime
to keep it. It was for your sake that I abjured these purposes of
vengeance, though I scarce knew that such was the argument by which I
was conquered, until I saw you once more, and became conscious of the
influence you possessed over me."

"And why do you now," said Lucy, "recall sentiments so
terrible--sentiments so inconsistent with those you profess for me--with
those your importunity has prevailed on me to acknowledge?"

"Because," said her lover, "I would impress on you the price at which I
have bought your love--the right I have to expect your constancy. I
say not that I have bartered for it the honour of my house, its last
remaining possession; but though I say it not, and think it not, I
cannot conceal from myself that the world may do both."

"If such are your sentiments," said Lucy, "you have played a cruel game
with me. But it is not too late to give it over: take back the faith and
troth which you could not plight to me without suffering abatement of
honour--let what is passed be as if it had not been--forget me; I will
endeav