was impossible. Whatever might happen, and to whomever he might be
false,--he would be true to her. He would at any rate be so true to her
that he would not leave her. If he never made her his legal wife, his
wife legal at all points, he would always treat her as wife. When his
uncle the Earl should die, when the time came in which he would be
absolutely free as to his own motions, he would discover the way in
which this might best be done. If it were true that his Kate's father
was a convict escaped from the galleys, that surely would be an
additional reason why she should not be made Countess of Scroope. Even
Mrs. O'Hara herself must understand that. With Kate, with his own Kate,
he thought that there would be no difficulty.

From bad to worse! Alas, alas; there came a day in which the
pricelessness of the girl he loved sank to nothing, vanished away, and
was as a thing utterly lost, even in his eyes. The poor unfortunate
one,--to whom beauty had been given, and grace, and softness,--and
beyond all these and finer than these, innocence as unsullied as the
whiteness of the plumage on the breast of a dove; but to whom, alas,
had not been given a protector strong enough to protect her softness,
or guardian wise enough to guard her innocence! To her he was godlike,
noble, excellent, all but holy. He was the man whom Fortune, more than
kind, had sent to her to be the joy of her existence, the fountain of
her life, the strong staff for her weakness. Not to believe in him would
be the foulest treason! To lose him would be to die! To deny him would
be to deny her God! She gave him all;--and her pricelessness in his eyes
was gone for ever.

He was sitting with her one day towards the end of May on the edge of
the cliff, looking down upon the ocean and listening to the waves, when
it occurred to him that he might as well ask her about her father.
It was absurd he thought to stand upon any ceremony with her. He was
very good to her, and intended to be always good to her, but it was
essentially necessary to him to know the truth. He was not aware,
perhaps, that he was becoming rougher with her than had been his wont.
She certainly was not aware of it, though there was a touch of awe
sometimes about her as she answered him. She was aware that she now
shewed to him an absolute obedience in all things which had not been
customary with her; but then it was so sweet to obey him; so happy a
thing to have such a master! If he rebuked h