st thraldom, that even yourself could
not deliver it."

"And, perhaps, I would not, if I could,--unless you asked it:" she
answered: "and yet, sir, possibly you jest. Oh, sir, forbear;
begone, nor longer fool here a surprised, lone girl. What is your
purpose? who, and whence, are you? On your honor, answer me truly."

"I am the seigneur Montigny's only son: my purpose and my thoughts
towards you are all honorable:" he replied. And she rejoined: "Oh,
if your intentions are dishonorable, and you have not the spirit,
as you have the aspect, of a gentleman, yet keep this secret, as
you are a man."

"What shall be said to reassure you?" demanded Montigny. "Witness,
Heaven, if I assume to act, or intend anything injurious towards
you. Believe me. I am the heir to a proud seigniory: you are,--I
know not what; enough for me to know, you are the fairest figure
that has yet filled mine eyes, and surely as good as fair. Will
you be mine, as I am yours for ever? Speak, why are you silent?"

"Hist," she said, listening.

"What is the matter?" he enquired.

"Nothing, perhaps nothing:" she continued, whilst her voice
faltered:--"but go, oh, go, and come again to-morrow, or next
week, or when you will. I'll think on what you have said; but go;
I tremble so; stay here no longer; think, should we be observed.
I am ashamed to think of it. I am ashamed to look the moon in the
face, ashamed to look into yours. Oh, sir, what have I done? What
have you said? How have I answered? for I am perplexed. Away, yet
come again; come fifty times; but stay no longer now; begone;--return
though when you choose; do not wait for an invitation.--Listen,
I hear it again; begone, begone; did you not hear something?--it
was nothing, perhaps, but yet begone."

"Never without your love pledge will I leave you," replied Montigny
firmly.

"And would you force me to avow myself?" she asked. "May Heaven
absolve me if I err herein! No, give me leisure to reflect: this
were too sudden. These passion-hurried vows were too much like
those vapors, that, igniting, rush like to unorbed stars across
the night, then, vanished, leave it blacker. Do not tempt me. To
act in haste is to repent at leisure; and quickliest lighted coals
grow soonest cool. Even now I feel my cheek aglow with shame, that
burns its passage to my rooted hair. Away: if you should not forget
me, why, you are as though you were still present; for your thought,
which is your truest self, remai