y be a grief and bitterness to all."

"I hope I have repented, and that God accepts my forgiveness," said
Charles sadly. "I am banishing myself from all I love, and there is
a weight on me for life; but, unless suspicion falls on others, I do
not feel bound to make it worse for all by giving myself up. Yet
those appearances--to you, to me, to us both! At such a moment,
too, last night!"

"Can it be because of his unhallowed grave?" said Anne, in a low
voice of awe.

"If it were!" said Charles, drawing up his horse for a moment in
thought. "Anne, if there be one more appearance, the place shall be
searched, whether it incriminate me or not. It would be adding to
all my wrongs towards the poor fellow, if that were the case."

"Even if he were found," said Anne, "suspicion would not light on
you. And at home it will be known if he haunts the place. I will--
"

"Nay, but, Anne, he will not interrupt me now. I have much more to
say. I want you to remember that we were sweethearts ere ever I, as
a child of twelve, knew that I was contracted to that poor babe, and
bidden to think only of her. Poor child! I honestly did my best to
love her, so far as I knew how, and mayhap we could have rubbed on
through life passably well as things go. But--but--It skills not
talking of things gone by, except to show that it is a whole heart--
not the reversion of one that is yours for ever, mine only love."

"Oh, but--but--I am no match for you."

"I've had enough of grand matches."

"Your father would never endure it."

"My father would soon rejoice. Besides, if we are wedded here--say
at Ostend--and you make me a home at Buda, or Vienna, or some place
at our winter quarters, as my brave wench will, my father will be
glad enough to see us both at home again."

"No; it cannot be. It would be plain treachery to your parents; Mr.
Fellowes would say so. I am sure he would not marry us."

"There are English chaplains. Is that all that holds you back?"

"No, sir. If the Archbishop of Canterbury were here himself, it
could not make it other than a sin, and an act of mean ingratitude,
for me, the Prince's rocker, to take advantage of their goodness in
permitting you to come and bring me home--to do what would be pain,
grief, and shame to them."

"Never shame."

"What is wrong is shame! Cannot you see how unworthy it would be in
me, and how it would grieve my uncle that I should have done such a
thing?"

"Love w