embody
them in new forms, while poor I--And that is another reason why we
should part.--Hush! hear me out. I must not be a clog, to drag you
down in your course. Take this, and farewell; and remember that you
once had a friend called Argemone.'

She put into his hands a little Bible. He took it, and laid it down
on the table.

For a minute he stood silent and rooted to the spot.
Disappointment, shame, rage, hatred, all boiled up madly within him.
The bitterest insults rose to his lips--'Flirt, cold-hearted pedant,
fanatic!' but they sank again unspoken, as he looked into the
celestial azure of those eyes, calm and pure as a soft evening sky.
A mighty struggle between good and evil shook his heart to the
roots; and, for the first time in his life, his soul breathed out
one real prayer, that God would help him now or never to play the
man. And in a moment the darkness passed; a new spirit called out
all the latent strength within him; and gently and proudly he
answered her,--

'Yes, I will go. I have had mad dreams, conceited and insolent, and
have met with my deserts. Brute and fool as I am, I have aspired
even to you! And I have gained, in the sunshine of your
condescension, strength and purity.--Is not that enough for me? And
now I will show you that I love you--by obeying you. You tell me to
depart--I go for ever.'

He turned away. Why did she almost spring after him?

'Lancelot! one word! Do not misunderstand me, as I know you will.
You will think me so cold, heartless, fickle.--Oh, you do not know--
you never can know--how much I, too, have felt!'

He stopped, spell-bound. In an instant his conversation with the
Irishman flashed up before him with new force and meaning. A
thousand petty incidents, which he had driven contemptuously from
his mind, returned as triumphant evidences; and, with an impetuous
determination, he cried out,--

'I see--I see it all, Argemone! We love each other! You are mine,
never to be parted!'

What was her womanhood, that it could stand against the energy of
his manly will! The almost coarse simplicity of his words silenced
her with a delicious violence. She could only bury her face in her
hands and sob out,--

'Oh, Lancelot, Lancelot, whither are you forcing me?'

'I am forcing you no whither. God, the Father of spirits, is
leading you! You, who believe in Him, how dare you fight against
Him?'

'Lancelot, I cannot--I c