world; no
one shares my heart with you. I know you love me, but not as I would
be loved, or you would leave father and mother and cling to me. What
right has your father, or any other father, to blast his child's
happiness? Heed him not, love, but come with me. I will never let you
feel a single regret. I will love you more than all their love
combined. Nay, do not turn aside--you must hear me. Think what you are
doing! wrecking my happiness, casting me forth, without hope, to drag
out a miserable, useless existence. I may be cursed with long life.
Constance, darling, come with me! With your parents it will only be a
short grief--disappointed ambition--and, at the most, only the
thwarting of their proud hopes. They will soon get over it; but even
if they should not, in all human probability they have not the length
of days to suffer that we have. Bid me hope!"

"Ernest, Heaven only knows what a severe trial this is to me. Yet your
words only strengthen me in my duty. It is true, as you say, my
parents are old. Can I grieve and wring their careworn hearts? No, no!
What recompense can a child make her parents for all their unselfish
love, and constant watching over, and providing for, from the first
feeble baby days, to the time when they could, if willing, return all
this, by simple duty; obedience to their will. Think, Ernest, how, in
my days of illness, my mother watched over and soothed me. The long,
sleepless nights spent over my cradle--praying God to spare her
child--for what? to prove an ungrateful one! Oh, no! I could look for
no blessing on our union if I should be deaf to the pleading of my
parents, and heedless of God's own command.

"Perhaps some time hence they may think differently. Then, if you
have not sought and won another, we may be happy. One thing you may
rest assured of, I shall never wed Gerald Moreton, or any other. I
obeyed my father in resigning you, but cannot perjure myself by taking
the marriage vows, even at their command. Do not leave me in anger,
Ernest. Let your last look be of kindness and forgiveness for the
sorrow I cause you. Now, a long look into your eyes, to engrave them
forever on my heart. Good-by--God bless you, Ernest."

She held out her arms, and was clasped in a long, last embrace.
Breaking away, she was soon lost to view among the deep shadows of the
garden.

"And this is the end! This is woman's love! Mere filial duty, I should
say. Well, well, a final adieu to all th