w estate; when he would throw his
fortune into her lap, his titles at her feet, and bid her wear them with
him; when, with ennobled hand and unchanged heart, he would fulfil the
troth plighted in his outcast days; in lieu of tender, grateful
acquiescence, the features of Sybil became overcast, the soft smile
faded away, and, as spring sunshine is succeeded by the sudden shower,
the light that dwelt in her sunny orbs grew dim with tears.

"Why--why is this, dear Sybil?" said Luke, gazing upon her in
astonishment, not unmingled with displeasure. "To what am I to attribute
these tears? You do not, surely, regret my good fortune?"

"Not on your own account, dear Luke," returned she, sadly. "The tears I
shed were for myself--the first, the only tears that I have ever shed
for such cause; and," added she, raising her head like a flower
surcharged with moisture, "they shall be the last."

"This is inexplicable, dear Sybil. Why should you lament for yourself,
if not for me? Does not the sunshine of prosperity that now shines upon
me gild you with the same beam? Did I not even now affirm that the day
that saw me enter the hall of my forefathers should dawn upon our
espousals?"

"True; but the sun that shines upon you, to me wears a threatening
aspect. The day of those espousals will never dawn. You cannot make me
the Lady of Rookwood."

"What do I hear?" exclaimed Luke, surprised at this avowal of his
mistress, sadly and deliberately delivered. "Not wed you! And wherefore
not? Is it the rank I have acquired, or hope to acquire, that displeases
you? Speak, that I may waste no further time in thus pursuing the
shadows of happiness, while the reality fleets from me."

"And _are_ they shadows; and _is_ this the reality, dear Luke? Question
your secret soul, and you will find it otherwise. You could not forego
your triumph; it is not likely. You have dwelt too much upon the proud
title which will be yours to yield it to another, when it may be won so
easily. And, above all, when your mother's reputation, and your own
stained name, may be cleared by one word, breathed aloud, would you fail
to utter it? No, dear Luke, I read your heart; you would not."

"And if I could _not_ forego this, wherefore is it that you refuse to be
a sharer in my triumph? Why will you render my honors valueless when I
have acquired them? You love me not."

"Not love you, Luke?"

"Approve it, then."

"I do approve it. Bear witness the sacrifice I a