her; no! there will be no need of asking her; she has already
given you her promise. You do not think that she will desert you? you
do not wish it?"

Herein were contained two distinct questions, the latter of which
Herbert did not care to answer. "I shall not call it desertion," he
said; "indeed the proposal will come from me. I shall write to her,
telling her that she need think about me no longer. Only that I am so
weary I would do it now."

"And how will she answer you? If she is the Clara that I take her
for she will throw your proposal back into your face. She will tell
you that it is not in your power to reject her now. She will swear
to you, that let your words be what they may, she will think of
you--more now than she has ever thought in better days. She will tell
you of her love in words that she could not use before. I know she
will. I know that she is good, and true, and honest, and generous.
Oh, I should die if I thought she were false! But, Herbert, I am sure
that she is true. You can write your letter, and we shall see."

Herbert, with wise arguments learned from his mother, reasoned with
his sister, explaining to her that Clara was now by no means bound to
cling to him; but as he spoke them his arm fastened itself closely
round his sister's waist, for the words which she uttered with so
much energy were comfortable to him.

And then, seated there, before he moved from the room, he made her
bring him pens, ink, and paper, and he wrote his letter to Clara
Desmond. She would fain have stayed with him while he did so, sitting
at his feet, and looking into his face, and trying to encourage his
hope as to what Clara's answer might be; but this he would not allow;
so she went again to her father's room, having succeeded in obtaining
a promise that Clara's answer should be shown to her. And the letter,
when it was written, copied, and recopied, ran as follows:--

Castle Richmond, ---- night.

My dearest Clara,--

It was with great difficulty that he could satisfy himself with that,
or indeed with any other mode of commencement. In the short little
love-notes which had hitherto gone from him, sent from house to
house, he had written to her with appellations of endearment of his
own--as all lovers do; and as all lovers seem to think that no lovers
have done before themselves--with appellations which are so sweet to
those who write, and so musical to those who read, but which sound
so ludicrous