weighed on my heart and my
conscience ever since. You said 'that I should have no secret from you;
for that, in our relation to each other, would be deceit.' I have had
a secret; but oh, believe me! it was long ere it was clearly visible to
myself. You honoured me with a suit so far beyond my birth, my merits.
You said that I might console and comfort you. At those words, what
answer could I give,--I, who owe you so much more than a daughter's
duty? And I thought that my affections were free,--that they would
obey that duty. But--but--but--" continued Helen, bowing her head still
lowlier, and in a voice far fainter--"I deceived myself. I again saw him
who had been all in the world to me, when the world was so terrible, and
then--and then--I trembled. I was terrified at my own memories, my own
thoughts. Still I struggled to banish the past, resolutely, firmly. Oh,
you believe me, do you not? And I hoped to conquer. Yet ever since those
words of yours, I felt that I ought to tell you even of the struggle.
This is the first time we have met since you spoke them. And now--now--I
have seen him again, and--and--though not by a word could she you
had deigned to woo as your bride encourage hope in another; though
there--there where you now stand--he bade me farewell, and we parted
as if forever,--yet--yet O Lord L'Estrange! in return for your
rank, wealth, your still nobler gifts of nature, what should I
bring?--Something more than gratitude, esteem; reverence,--at least an
undivided heart, filled with your image, and yours alone. And this I
cannot give. Pardon me,--not for what I say now, but for not saying it
before. Pardon me, O my benefactor, pardon me!"

"Rise, Helen," said Harley, with relaxing brow, though still unwilling
to yield to one softer and holier emotion. "Rise!" And he lifted her up,
and drew her towards the light. "Let me look at your face. There seems
no guile here. These tears are surely honest. If I cannot be loved,
it is my fate, and not your crime. Now, listen to me. If you grant me
nothing else, will you give me the obedience which the ward owes to the
guardian, the child to the parent?"

"Yes, oh, yes!" murmured Helen.

"Then while I release you from all troth to me, I claim the right to
refuse, if I so please it, my assent to the suit of--of the person you
prefer. I acquit you of deceit, but I reserve to myself the judgment I
shall pass on him. Until I myself sanction that suit, will you promise
no