trove at last to speak,
her lips quivered so violently that, after a vain effort, she ceased
abruptly. I again approached; I seized her hand, which I covered with my
kisses.

"Will you not answer me, Isora?" said I, trembling. "_Be_ silent, then;
but give me one look, one glance of hope, of pardon, from those dear
eyes, and I ask no more."

Isora's whole frame seemed sinking beneath her emotions; she raised her
head, and looked hurriedly and fearfully round; my eye followed
hers, and I then saw upon the damp ground the recent print of a man's
footstep, not my own: and close to the spot where I had found Isora lay
a man's glove. A pang shot through me; I felt my eyes flash fire, and my
brow darken, as I turned to Isora and said, "I see it; I see all: I have
a rival, who has but just left you; you love me not; your affections
are for him!" Isora sobbed violently, but made no reply. "You love him,"
said I, but in a milder and more mournful tone, "you love him; it is
enough; I will persecute you no more; and yet--" I paused a moment,
for the remembrance of many a sign, which my heart had interpreted
flatteringly, flashed upon me, and my voice faltered. "Well, I have no
right to murmur--only, Isora--only tell me with your lips that you love
another, and I will depart in peace."

Very slowly Isora turned her eyes to me, and even through her tears they
dwelt upon me with a tender and a soft reproach.

"You love another?" said I; and from her lips, which scarcely parted,
came a single word which thrilled to my heart like fire,--"No!"

"No!" I repeated, "no? say that again, and again; yet who then is this
that has dared so to agitate and overpower you? Who is he whom you have
met, and whom, even now while I speak, you tremble to hear me recur
to? Answer me one word: is it this mysterious stranger whom your father
honours with his friendship? is it Barnard?"

Alarm and fear again wholly engrossed the expression of Isora's
countenance.

"Barnard!" she said; "yes--yes--it is Barnard!"

"Who is he?" I cried vehemently; "who or what is he; and of what nature
is his influence upon you? Confide in me," and I poured forth a long
tide of inquiry and solicitation.

By the time I had ended, Isora seemed to have recovered herself. With
her softness was mingled something of spirit and self-control, which was
rare alike in her country and her sex.

"Listen to me!" said she, and her voice, which faltered a little at
first, grew ca