, carried conviction with it; and the handsome Burrell paced
three or four times the length of the oak parlour, before he could
sufficiently bring his mortified feelings under necessary subjection: he
then resumed his seat.

"I think otherwise; a woman can but require devoted affection, constant
watchfulness, and tender solicitude. All, all this will be yours.
Besides, a daughter of the house of Cecil would not break faith. I could
_command_ your hand--I only solicit it."

"Sir Willmott, you well know, that when the unhappy contract was entered
into, I was of tender age; too young, indeed, to comprehend its nature.
Ought you in honour to urge it on me, when I frankly tell you by word of
mouth, what my demeanour must have informed you long, long since,
that--I can never love you?"

"You have said it once, lady; and the sentence cannot be pleasant to the
ears of your affianced husband. The turmoils of the times, and the
service I so largely owed to the Protector, have called me much from
home; and though my heart lingered here, I was forced away by duty to
the state: surely you would not love me less because it was rigidly
performed?"

"You would not wish me your wife," said Constance, in a faltering tone,
resolving to make trial of Sir Willmott's generosity, while her strength
seemed to rise with her honest purpose,--"you would not wish me your
wife; for not only do I not love you, but--I love--another."

Now, Sir Willmott Burrell did not start from his chair, nor did he pace
up and down the polished floor,--he fixed his eyes upon Constantia, as
if he would have read within her soul _who_ she loved; but the
expression gradually changed, from a deep and perilous curiosity, to one
of firm resolve, until, drawing his breath between his set teeth, he
said, slowly and deliberately, but in a restrained tone, as if the voice
came from the fiend within him,--

"I am sorry for it, Constantia Cecil; for it cannot prevent your being
mine--mine--and, by the God that hears me, mine only, and for ever!"

Constantia rose slowly from her seat, and said, in a firm voice, "I did
not come here to suffer insult, sir."

She walked across the room with so dignified a step, that she had nearly
reached the door, before Burrell acquired sufficient courage to stay her
departure. He laid his hand on her arm as she touched the lock, but she
shook it off as coolly, yet as firmly, as the apostle threw from him the
viper into the flames at Me