back and shuddered; Godolphin felt a cool, soft hand
laid on his; he turned and the face of Constance, full of anxious and
wondering pity, was bent upon him. He stood arrested for one moment, and
then, seizing that hand, pressed it to his lips--his heart, and burst
suddenly into tears. That paroxysm saved his life; for days afterwards
he was insensible.

CHAPTER XLV.

THE DECLARATION.--THE APPROACHING NUPTIALS.--IS THE IDEALIST CONTENTED?

As Godolphin returned to health, and, day after day, the presence of
Constance, her soft tones, her deep eyes, grew on him, renewing their
ancient spells, the reader must perceive that bourne to which events
necessarily tended. For some weeks not a word that alluded to the
Siren's Cave was uttered by either; but when that allusion came at last
from Godolphin's lips, the next moment he was kneeling beside Constance,
her hand surrendered to his, and her proud cheek all bathed in the
blushes of sixteen.

"And so," said Saville, "you, Percy Godolphin, are at last the accepted
lover of Constance, Countess of Erpingham. When is the wedding to be?"

"I know not," replied Godolphin, musingly.

"Well, I almost envy you; you will be very happy for six weeks, and
that's something in this disagreeable world. Yet now, I look on you,
I grow reconciled to myself again; you do not seem so happy as that I,
Augustus Saville, should envy you while my digestion lasts. What are you
thinking of?"

"Nothing," replied Godolphin, vacantly; the words of Lucilla were
weighing at his heart, like a prophecy working towards its fulfilment:
"Come what may, you will never find the happiness you ask: you exact too
much."

At that moment Lady Erpingham's page entered with a note from Constance,
and a present of flowers. No one ever wrote half so beautifully, so
spiritually as Constance, and to Percy the wit was so intermingled with
the tenderness!

"No," said he, burying his lips among the flowers; "no! I discard the
foreboding; with you I must be happy!" But conscience, still unsilenced,
whispered Lucilla!

The marriage was to take place at Rome. The day was fixed; and, owing
to Constance's rank, beauty and celebrity, the news of the event created
throughout "the English in Italy" no small sensation. There was a great
deal of gossip, of course, on the occasion; and some of this gossip
found its way to the haughty ears of Constance. It was said that she had
made a strange match--that it was a curiou