consent!'--'Propose it!' I cried; 'there is no
condition I could not accede to.'--'Rash boy!' he replied, 'you know not
what you say; that pledge you would never fulfil, were I to propose it
to you; but no--should I survive till you return, you shall learn it
then--and now, farewell.'--'Speak now, I beseech you!' I exclaimed;
'anything, everything--what you will!'--'Say no more,' replied he,
walking towards the house; 'when you return we will renew this subject;
farewell--perhaps forever!' His words were prophetic--that parting _was_
forever. I remained in the garden till nightfall. I saw my mother, but
_he_ came not again. I quitted England without beholding Eleanor."

"Did you not acquaint her by letter with what had occurred, and your
consequent intentions?" asked Small.

"I did," replied Ranulph; "but I received no reply. My earliest
inquiries will be directed to ascertain whether the family are still in
London. It will be a question for our consideration, whether I am not
justified in departing from my father's expressed wishes, or whether I
should violate his commands in so doing."

"We will discuss that point hereafter," replied Small; adding, as he
noticed the growing paleness of his companion, "you are too much
exhausted to proceed--you had better defer the remainder of your story
to a future period."

"No," replied Ranulph, swallowing a glass of water; "I am exhausted, yet
I cannot rest--my blood is in a fever, which nothing will allay. I shall
feel more easy when I have made the present communication. I am
approaching the sequel of my narrative. You are now in possession of the
story of my love--of the motive of my departure. You shall learn what
was the occasion of my return.

"I had wandered from city to city during my term of exile--consumed by
hopeless passion--with little that could amuse _me_, though surrounded
by a thousand objects of interest to others, and only rendering life
endurable by severest study or most active exertion. My steps conducted
me to Bordeaux;--there I made a long halt, enchanted by the beauty of
the neighboring scenery. My fancy was smitten by the situation of a
villa on the banks of the Garonne, within a few leagues of the city. It
was an old chateau, with fine gardens bordering the blue waters of the
river, and commanding a multitude of enchanting prospects. The house,
which had in part gone to decay, was inhabited by an aged couple, who
had formerly been servants to an En