en he's in love! And I am
fallen confoundedly in love with--with you, ma'am.'

'But very suddenly,' Julia replied. She was beginning to recover from
her amazement.

'You don't think that I am sincere?' he protested plaintively. 'You
doubt me! Then--'he advanced a pace towards her with hat and arms
extended, 'let the eloquence of a--a feeling heart plead for me; a
heart, too--yes, too sensible of your charms, and--and your many merits,
ma'am! Yes, most adorable of your sex. But there,' he added, breaking
off abruptly, 'I said that before, didn't I? Yes. Lord! what a memory I
have got! I am all of a twitter. I was so cut last night, I don't know
what I am saying.'

'That I believe,' Julia said with chilling severity.

'Eh, but--but you do believe I am in earnest?' he cried anxiously.
'Shall I kneel to you? Shall I call up the servants and tell them? Shall
I swear that I mean honourably? Lord! I am no Mr. Thornhill! I'll make
it as public as you like,' he continued eagerly. 'I'll send for
a bishop--'

'Spare me the bishop,' Julia rejoined with a faint smile, 'and any
farther appeals. They come, I am convinced, my lord, rather from your
head than your heart.'

'Oh, Lord, no!' he cried.

'Oh, Lord, yes,' she answered with a spice of her old archness. 'I may
have a tolerable opinion of my own attractions--women commonly have, it
is said. But I am not so foolish, my lord, as to suppose that on the
three or four occasions on which I have seen you I can have gained your
heart. To what I am to attribute your sudden--shall I call it whim or
fancy--' Julia continued with a faint blush, 'I do not know. I am
willing to suppose that you do not mean to insult me.'

Lord Almeric denied it with a woeful face.

'Or to deceive me. I am willing to suppose,' she repeated, stopping him
by a gesture as he tried to speak, 'that you are in earnest for the
time, my lord, in desiring to make me your wife, strange and sudden as
the desire appears. It is a great honour, but it is one which I must as
earnestly and positively decline.'

'Why?' he cried, gaping, and then, 'O 'swounds, ma'am, you don't mean
it?' he continued piteously. 'Not have me? Not have me? And why?'

'Because,' she said modestly, 'I do not love you, my lord.'

'Oh, but--but when we are married,' he answered eagerly, rallying his
scattered forces, 'when we are one, sweet maid--'

'That time will never come,' she replied cruelly. And then gloom
overspreading her fac