f other days. But my residence in
England changed my opinions on the custom of my country, and I
determined never to marry." She stopped short, and with a faint smile,
said, "But let us talk of something else." Her cheek was crimson, and
her eyes were fixed on the ground.

"No, Clotilde, talk of nothing else. Talk of your feelings, your
sentiments, of yourself, and all that concerns yourself. No subject on
earth can ever be so delightful to your friend. But, talk of what you
will, and I shall listen with a pleasure which no human being has ever
given me before, or ever shall give me again."

She raised her magnificent eyes, and fixed them full upon me with an
involuntary look of surprise, then grew suddenly pale, and closed them
as if she were fainting. "I must listen," said she, "to this language no
longer. I know you to be above deception. I know you to be above playing
with the vanity of one unused to praise, and to such praise. But I have
a spirit as high as your own. Let us be friends. It will give an
additional honour to my name; shall I say"--and she faltered--"an
additional interest to my existence. Now we must part for a while."

"Never!" was my exclamation. "The world does not contain two Clotildes.
And you shall never leave me. You have just told me that I preserved
your life. Why shall I not be its protector still? Why not be suffered
to devote mine to making yours happy?" But the bitter thought struck me
as I uttered the words--how far I was from the power of giving this
incomparable creature the station in society which was hers by right!
How feeble was my hope even of competence! How painfully I should look
upon her beauty, her fine understanding, and her generous heart, humbled
to the narrow circumstances of one whose life depended upon the chances
of the most precarious of all professions, and whose success in that
profession depended wholly on the caprice of fortune. But one glance
more drove all doubts away, and I took her hand.

She looked at me with speechless embarrassment, sighed deeply, and a
tear stole down her cheek. At length, withdrawing her hand, she said, in
almost a whisper, and with an evident effort, "This must not be. I feel
infinite honour in your good opinion--deeply grateful for your kindness.
But this must not be. No. I should rather wear this habit for my life,
than make so ungenerous a return to the noble spirit that can thus offer
its friendship to a stranger."

"No, Clotild