dowed with the secret of resistance. It may
be remembered, in describing her character, that we spoke of her as one
who seemed, to the superficial, as of too yielding and soft a temper.
But circumstances gave the lie to manner, and proved that she eminently
possessed a quiet firmness and latent resolution, which gave to her mind
a nobleness and trustworthy power that never would have been suspected
by those who met her among the ordinary paths of life.

Brandon had not been long gone, when Lucy's maid came to inform her that
a gentleman, who expressed himself very desirous of seeing her, waited
below. The blood rushed from Lucy's cheek at this announcement, simple
as it seemed. "What gentleman could be desirous of seeing her? Was
it--was it Clifford?" She remained for some moments motionless, and
literally unable to move; at length she summoned courage, and smiling
with self-contempt at a notion which appeared to her after thoughts
utterly absurd, she descended to the drawing-room. The first glance she
directed towards the stranger, who stood by the fireplace with folded
arms, was sufficient,--it was impossible to mistake, though the face was
averted, the unequalled form of her lover. She advanced eagerly with a
faint cry, checked herself, and sank upon the sofa.

Clifford turned towards her, and fixed his eyes upon her countenance
with an intense and melancholy gaze, but he did not utter a syllable;
and Lucy, after pausing in expectation of his voice, looked up, and
caught, in alarm, the strange and peculiar aspect of his features. He
approached her slowly, and still silent; but his gaze seemed to grow
more earliest and mournful as he advanced.

"Yes," said he at last, in a broken and indistinct voice, "I see you
once more, after all my promises to quit you forever,--after, my solemn
farewell, after all that I have cost you; for, Lucy, you love me, you
love me, and I shudder while I feel it; after all I myself have borne
and resisted, I once more come wilfully into your presence! How have I
burned and sickened for this moment! How have I said, 'Let me behold her
once more, only once more, and Fate may then do her worst!' Lucy! dear,
dear Lucy! forgive me for my weakness. It is now in bitter and stern
reality the very last I can be guilty of!"

As he spoke, Clifford sank beside her. He took both her hands in his,
and holding them, though without pressure, again looked passionately
upon her innocent yet eloquent face.