t wholly and
implicitly. Heaven, I say, is my witness that, did I obey the voice
of my selfish heart, I would gladly, proudly, share and follow your
fortunes. You mistake me if you think sordid and vulgar ambition can
only influence me. No! I could be worthy of you! The daughter of John
Vernon could be a worthy wife to the man of indigence and genius. In
your poverty I could soothe you; in your labour I could support you; in
your reverses console, in your prosperity triumph. But--but, it must not
be. Go, Godolphin--dear Godolphin! There are thousands better and fairer
than I am, who will do for you as I would have done; but who possess
the power I have not--who, instead of sharing, can raise your fortunes.
Go!--and if it comfort, if it soothe you, believe that I have not been
insensible to your generosity, your love. My best wishes, my fondest
prayers, my dearest hopes, are yours."

Blinded by her tears, subdued by her emotions, Constance was still
herself. She rose; she extricated her hand from Godolphin's; she turned
to leave the room. But Godolphin, still kneeling, caught hold of her
robe, and gently, but effectually detained her.

"The picture you have painted," said he, "do not destroy at once. You
have portrayed yourself my soother, guide, restorer. You _can,_ indeed
you can, be this. You do not know me, Constance. Let me say one word for
my self. Hitherto, I have shunned fame and avoided ambition. Life has
seemed to me so short, and all that even glory wins so poor, that I
have thought no labour worth the price of a single hour of pleasure and
enjoyment. For you, how joyfully will I renounce my code! For myself I
could ask no honour: for you, I will labour for all. No toil shall
be dry to me--no pleasure shall decoy. I will renounce my idle and
desultory pursuits. I will enter the great public arena, where all who
come armed with patience and with energy are sure to win. Constance, I
am not without talents, though they have slept within me; say but the
word, and you know not what they can produce."

An irresolution in Constance was felt as a sympathy by Godolphin; he
continued,--

"We are both desolate in the world, Constance; we are
orphans--friendless, fortuneless. Yet both have made our way without
friends, and commanded our associates, though without fortune. Does not
this declare we have that within us which, when we are united, can
still exalt or conquer our destiny? And we--we--alone in the noisy
and