am feverish, I dream that I am again at
Llan-dhu, in the little old bed-chamber, and you, in white--which you
always wore then, you know--flitting about me."

The tears dropped, large and round, from Ruth's eyes--she could not
help it--how could she?

"We were happy then," continued he, gaining confidence from the sight
of her melted mood, and recurring once more to the admission which he
considered so much in his favour. "Can such happiness never return?"
Thus he went on, quickly, anxious to lay before her all he had to
offer, before she should fully understand his meaning.

"If you would consent, Leonard should be always with you--educated
where and how you liked--money to any amount you might choose to name
should be secured to you and him--if only, Ruth--if only those happy
days might return."

Ruth spoke.

"I said that I was happy, because I had asked God to protect and help
me--and I dared not tell a lie. I was happy. Oh! what is happiness or
misery that we should talk about them now?"

Mr Donne looked at her, as she uttered these words, to see if she
was wandering in her mind, they seemed to him so utterly strange and
incoherent.

"I dare not think of happiness--I must not look forward to sorrow.
God did not put me here to consider either of these things."

"My dear Ruth, compose yourself! There is no hurry in answering the
question I asked."

"What was it?" said Ruth.

"I love you so, I cannot live without you. I offer you my heart, my
life--I offer to place Leonard wherever you would have him placed. I
have the power and the means to advance him in any path of life you
choose. All who have shown kindness to you shall be rewarded by me,
with a gratitude even surpassing your own. If there is anything else
I can do that you can suggest, I will do it."

"Listen to me!" said Ruth, now that the idea of what he proposed had
entered her mind. "When I said that I was happy with you long ago, I
was choked with shame as I said it. And yet it may be a vain, false
excuse that I make for myself. I was very young; I did not know how
such a life was against God's pure and holy will--at least, not as I
know it now; and I tell you truth--all the days of my years since I
have gone about with a stain on my hidden soul--a stain which made me
loathe myself, and envy those who stood spotless and undefiled; which
made me shrink from my child--from Mr Benson, from his sister, from
the innocent girls whom I teach--nay, e