I cannot always command my feelings, though I
shall take care that they are not again observed.'

'I have offended you?'

'Then you have shown your discretion, for you should always offend the
forlorn.'

'I did not think before that you were bitter.'

'That has made me bitter which has made all others so.'

'What?'

'Disappointment.'

Another pause, yet she did not go.

'I will not quarrel, and so you need not try. You are consigned to my
care, and I am to amuse you. What shall we do?'

'Do what you like, Miss Dacre; but spare, oh! spare me your pity!'

'You do indeed surprise me. Pity! I was not thinking of pity! But you
are indeed serious, and I leave you.'

He turned; he seized her hand.

'Nay! do not go. Forgive me,' he said, 'forgive me, for I am most
miserable.'

'Why, why are you?'

'Oh! do not ask; you agonise me.'

'Shall I sing? Shall I charm the evil spirit?'

'Anything?'

She tripped to the piano, and an air, bursting like the spring, and gay
as a village feast, filled the room with its delight. He listened, and
each instant the chilly weight loosened from his heart. Her balmy voice
now came upon his ear, breathing joy and cheerfulness, content and love.
Could love be the savage passion which lately subjugated his soul? He
rose from his seat; he walked about the room; each minute his heart
was lighter, his brow more smooth. A thousand thoughts, beautiful and
quivering like the twilight, glanced o'er his mind in indistinct but
exquisite tumult, and hope, like the voice of an angel in a storm, was
heard above all. He lifted a chair gently from the ground, and, stealing
to the enchantress, seated himself at her side. So softly he reached
her, that for a moment he was unperceived. She turned her head, and her
eyes met his. Even the ineffable incident was forgotten, as he marked
the strange gush of lovely light, that seemed to say---- what to think
of was, after all, madness.

CHAPTER V.

_Arundel's Disappointment_

THE storm was past. He vowed that a dark thought should not again cross
his mind. It was fated that she should not be his; but it was some
miserable satisfaction that he was only rejected in favour of an
attachment which had grown with her years, and had strengthened with her
stature, and in deference to an engagement hallowed by time as well as
by affection. It was deadly indeed to remember that Fate seemed to have
destined him for that happy position, and that