“Convince me, first, that it is your duty, Lucie, and I will not urge you more; I will then yield, cheerfully, if I can, to those scruples which, I confess, now appear to me fastidious.”

“You are wilfully perverse, Arthur, but it will require more time than I can at present command, to convert you to my opinion; you see, even this bright twilight is fading from us, and my aunt will be uneasy at my long absence; indeed you must not detain me another moment.”

“You will at least suffer me to go with you Lucie,”—­

“I cannot,” she interrupted; “Annette’s cottage is near, and I fear nothing; besides, here is my shaggy page,” she said, pointing to the large dog which followed her; “and he is as trusty in his office, as any that ever attended the steps of a roving damsel.”

“And he enjoys the privilege of shewing his attachment,” said Stanhope, coloring; “while I am restrained, even from those slight attentions which common civility demand!  I am weary of this secrecy, Lucie, and nothing but your urgent wish could have compelled me to endure it so long!”

“My prohibition is now withdrawn,” she replied; “not because you have borne it with so much patience, but because my aunt detected the secret, and drew from me a confession, which, in truth, I should have made voluntarily, had I not feared it might involve her in my guardian’s displeasure.”

“And that smile, dear Lucie, assures me, that the avowal was not ill-received.”

“My smile is deceptive then,” she answered; “no, Arthur, unjust as it may appear to you, as it most certainly does to me, my aunt is vexed and disappointed at what she chooses to consider my perverse inclinations; and though I am persuaded she would never interpose her authority to prevent my wishes, her consent to them will not be very readily obtained.  You were, but just now, the subject of our conversation, and I left her displeased with the opinions I had ventured to express; I fear your unexpected appearance with me so immediately after, might not be well received, and this is my sole objection to your returning with me.”

“I have certainly no wish to obtrude myself in any place,” said Stanhope; “and particularly where my presence could excite displeasure against you:  and, though I feel convinced that the sentiments imbibed against me are most unjust, yet if your favor, your affection may I add, dear Lucie, survive their influence, I will not repine at that injustice which gives an added proof to its strength and constancy.”

“I thought it was already proved beyond a doubt!” she answered; “surely that regard which time, and almost hopeless absence, could only render more devoted and enduring cannot be endangered by the assaults of idle prejudice or the lures of mercenary ambition!  My heart is more credulous in its faith than your’s, Arthur; and no jealous fear could ever lead me to distrust the truth and fervor of that love which you have pledged to me!”