lf from
so tame a peril. We can wait,--my uncle is old; his habits preclude the
chance of a much longer life; he has already had severe attacks. We
are young, dear Mainwaring: what is a year or two to those who hope?"
Mainwaring's face fell, and a displeasing chill passed through his
veins. Could this young creature, her uncle's petted and trusted
darling, she who should be the soother of his infirmities, the prop
of his age, the sincerest mourner at his grave, weigh coldly thus the
chances of his death, and point at once to the altar and the tomb?

He was saved from the embarrassment of reply by Dalibard's approach.

"More than half an hour absent," said the scholar, in his own language,
with a smile; and drawing out his watch, he placed it before their
eyes. "Do you not think that all will miss you? Do you suppose, Miss
Clavering, that your uncle has not ere this asked for his fair niece?
Come, and forestall him." He offered his arm to Lucretia as he spoke.
She hesitated a moment, and then, turning to Mainwaring, held out her
hand. He pressed it, though scarcely with a lover's warmth; and as she
walked back to the terrace with Dalibard, the young man struck slowly
into the opposite direction, and passing by a gate over a foot-bridge
that led from the ha-ha into the park, bent his way towards a lake which
gleamed below at some distance, half-concealed by groves of venerable
trees rich with the prodigal boughs of summer. Meanwhile, as they
passed towards the house, Dalibard, still using his native tongue, thus
accosted his pupil:--

"You must pardon me if I think more of your interests than you do; and
pardon me no less if I encroach on your secrets and alarm your pride.
This young man,--can you be guilty of the folly of more than a passing
caprice for his society, of more than the amusement of playing with his
vanity? Even if that be all, beware of entangling yourself in your own
meshes."

"You do in truth offend me," said Lucretia, with calm haughtiness, "and
you have not the right thus to speak to me."

"Not the right," repeated the Provencal, mournfully, "not the right!
Then, indeed, I am mistaken in my pupil. Do you consider that I would
have lowered my pride to remain here as a dependent; that, conscious of
attainments, and perhaps of abilities, that should win their way, even
in exile, to distinction, I would have frittered away my life in
these rustic shades,--if I had not formed in you a deep and absorbing