g the consequences. You have
both treated me honourably and with respect. You are both on equal
grounds as to standing in life. With Bonville I became first acquainted.
As it relates to him, some new arrangements have taken place since you
came here."

Theodore interrupted her with emotion. "Of those arrangements I am
acquainted, I received the intelligence from a friend in your
neighbourhood. I am prepared for the event."

Alida remained silent. "I have mentioned before," resumed Theodore,
"that whatever may be your decision, no impropriety can attach to you.
I might add, indeed, from various circumstances, and from the
information I possess, I perhaps should not have given you further
trouble on the occasion, had it not been from your own direction. And I
am now willing to retire without further explanation, without giving you
the pain of an express decision, if you think the measure expedient.
Your declaration can only be a matter of form, the consequence of which
I know, and my proposition may save your feelings."

"No, Theodore," replied she, "my reputation depends on my adherence to
my first determination; justice to yourself and to Bonville also demand
it. After what has passed, I should be considered as acting
capriciously, and inconsistently, should I depart from it. Bonville will
be here to-morrow, and you must consent to stay with us until that time;
the matter shall then be decided." "Yes," said Theodore, "it shall be as
you say, madam. Make your arrangements as you please."

Evening came on, and spread around her sombre shades;--the breeze's
rustling wing was in the tree:--the sound of the low, murmuring brooks,
and the far-off waterfall, were faintly heard;--the frequent lights in
the village darted their pale lustre through the gloom:--the solitary
whip-poor-wills stationed themselves along the woody glens, the groves
and rocky pastures, and sung a requiem to departed summer;--a dark cloud
was rising in the west, across whose gloomy front the vivid lightning
bent its forky spires.

Theodore and Alida moved slowly towards home; she appeared enraptured
with the melancholy splendours of the evening, but another subject
engaged the mental attention of Theodore.

Bonville arrived the next day. He gave his hand to Theodore with seeming
warmth of friendship. If it was reciprocated, it must have been
affected. There was no alteration in the manners and conversation of
Alida; her discourse, as usual, was sp