er the power of words, "my most poignant sorrow is, that
I have no rightful claim to give a daughter's love to her whom I shall
ever idolize as my mother. Oh, now I see why I thought her affection
measured and lukewarm. And have I--I destroyed her joy at seeing you
again? But you--you will hasten to console, to reassure her! She loves
you still,--she will be happy at last; and that--that thought--oh, that
thought compensates for all!"

There was so much warmth and simplicity in Evelyn's artless manner, it
was so evident that her love for him had not been of that ardent nature
which would at first have superseded every other thought in the anguish
of losing him forever, that the scale fell from the eyes of Maltravers,
and he saw at once that his own love had blinded him to the true
character of hers. He was human; and a sharp pang shot across his
breast. He remained silent for some moments; and then resumed,
compelling himself as he spoke to fix his eyes steadfastly on hers.

"And now, Evelyn--still may I so call you?--I have a duty to discharge
to another. You are loved"--and he smiled, but the smile was sad--"by
a younger and more suitable lover than I am. From noble and generous
motives he suppressed that love,--he left you to a rival; the rival
removed, dare he venture to explain to you his own conduct, and plead
his own motives? George Legard--" Maltravers paused. The cheek on which
he gazed was tinged with a soft blush, Evelyn's eyes were downcast,
there was a slight heaving beneath the robe.

Maltravers suppressed a sigh and continued. He narrated his interview
with Legard at Dover; and, passing lightly over what had chanced at
Venice, dwelt with generous eloquence on the magnanimity with which his
rival's gratitude had been displayed. Evelyn's eyes sparkled, and the
smile just visited the rosy lips and vanished again. The worst because
it was the least selfish fear of Maltravers was gone, and no vain doubt
of Evelyn's too keen regret remained to chill his conscience in obeying
its earliest and strongest duties.

"Farewell!" he said, as he rose to depart; "I will at once return to
London, and assist in the effort to save your fortune from this general
wreck: LIFE calls us back to its cares and business--farewell, Evelyn!
Aubrey will, I trust, remain with you still."

"Remain! Can I not return then to my--to her--yes, let me call her
_mother_ still?"

"Evelyn," said Maltravers, in a very low voice, "spare me,