"I knew it was false," she exclaimed, as the Viscount's tale flashed
across her mind; then, checking herself, she took Caroline's cold and
half-reluctant hand, and added, in a voice of extreme feeling,
"Caroline, dearest Caroline, forgive my having penetrated your secret;
fear me not, dear girl, I honour too much the feeling which dictates
your conduct. You have learned to love St. Eval; you have repented the
wilful and capricious treatment he once received from you. Deny it not,
nay, do not shrink from me, and think, because I appear so calm, I
cannot feel for those who are dear to me, and even sympathise in their
love. I do not, I will not condemn the past; I did once, I own, but
since I have known you, I have forgiven the mistaken wilfulness of a
misguided girl. You love him--confess that I am right, dearest."

Caroline's face was concealed within her hand, and almost agonized was
its expression as she looked up.

"Gertrude," she said, in a low, suffocated voice, "is it well, is it
kind in you thus to speak, to lead me to avow a love for one who, your
own words inform me, will soon be the husband of another?"

"I said not of another, my dear girl; forgive me this stratagem to
penetrate your well-preserved secret. My brother's happiness is so dear
to me, I could not trust it to one of whose affection I was not certain.
I am not aware I said he would soon be the husband of another; since, if
he be again refused, that he never will be. Simply, then, for I have
been quite tormenting enough, Eugene has striven long with himself to
conquer his love, to be happy as your friend; associating with you as he
does with Emmeline, but he cannot. He still loves you, Caroline, as
devotedly, as faithfully--perhaps more so than when he first offered you
his hand; he dares not renew that offer himself, for he feels a second
refusal from your lips would wound him too deeply. Your voice may chain
him to England, an altered and a happier man, or send him from its
shores a misanthrope and wretched: it is for you to decide, Caroline,
dearest. Must I plead with that eloquence, which you said would surpass
even his own, or will the pleadings of your own kind heart suffice?"

She paused, in evident emotion, for with a faint cry Caroline had thrown
herself on her neck, and buried her cheek upon her shoulder. Every limb
trembled with agitation; the ecstatic delight of that one moment--doubt
was, indeed, at an end. He loved her, and in spit