to you alone. Allow me to
walk beside you."'

Kenelm inclined his head assentingly, but made no answer. They were
nearly midway between the cottage and the burial-ground when Mrs.
Cameron resumed, her tones quick and agitated, contrasting her habitual
languid quietude,--

"I have a great weight on my mind; it ought not to be remorse. I acted
as I thought in my conscience for the best. But oh, Mr. Chillingly, if I
erred,--if I judged wrongly, do say you at least forgive me." She seized
his hand, pressing it convulsively. Kenelm muttered inaudibly: a sort
of dreary stupor had succeeded to the intense excitement of grief. Mrs.
Cameron went on,--

"You could not have married Lily; you know you could not. The secret of
her birth could not, in honour, have been concealed from your parents.
They could not have consented to your marriage; and even if you had
persisted, without that consent and in spite of that secret, to press
for it,--even had she been yours--"

"Might she not be living now?" cried Kenelm, fiercely.

"No,--no; the secret must have come out. The cruel world would have
discovered it; it would have reached her ears. The shame of it would
have killed her. How bitter then would have been her short interval of
life! As it is, she passed away,--resigned and happy. But I own that I
did not, could not, understand her, could not believe her feeling for
you to be so deep. I did think that when she knew her own heart she
would find that love for her guardian was its strongest affection. She
assented, apparently without a pang, to become his wife; and she seemed
always so fond of him, and what girl would not be? But I was mistaken,
deceived. From the day you saw her last, she began to fade away; but
then Walter left a few days after, and I thought that it was his absence
she mourned. She never owned to me that it was yours,--never till too
late,--too late,--just when my sad letter had summoned him back, only
three days before she died. Had I known earlier, while yet there was
hope of recovery, I must have written to you, even though the obstacles
to your union with her remained the same. Oh, again I implore you, say
that if I erred you forgive me. She did, kissing me so tenderly. She did
forgive me. Will not you? It would have been her wish."

"Her wish? Do you think I could disobey it? I know not if I have
anything to forgive. If I have, now could I not forgive one who loved
her? God comfort us both."

He bent do