t is most
difficult to forgive; and you must pardon me if I doubt the extent of
the blame you would so lavishly impute to yourself. I am now alone in
the world" (here the smile withered from Lucy's lips). "My poor father
is dead. I can injure no one by my conduct; there is no one on earth
to whom I am bound by duty. I am independent, I am rich. You profess to
love me. I am foolish and vain, and I believe you. Perhaps, also, I have
the fond hope which so often makes dupes of women,--the hope that if
you have erred, I may reclaim you; if you have been unfortunate, I may
console you! I know, Mr. Clifford, that I am saying that for which many
would despise me, and for which, perhaps, I ought to despise myself;
but there are times when we speak only as if some power at our hearts
constrained us, despite ourselves,--and it is thus that I have now
spoken to you."

It was with an air very unwonted to herself that Lucy had concluded her
address, for her usual characteristic was rather softness than dignity;
but, as if to correct the meaning of her words, which might otherwise
appear unmaidenly, there was a chaste, a proud, yet not the less a
tender and sweet propriety and dignified frankness in her look and
manner; so that it would have been utterly impossible for one who heard
her not to have done justice to the nobleness of her motives, or not
to have felt both touched and penetrated, as much by respect as by any
warmer or more familiar feeling.

Clifford, who had risen while she was speaking, listened with a
countenance that varied at every word she uttered,--now all hope, now
all despondency. As she ceased, the expression hardened into a settled
and compulsive resolution.

"It is well!" said he, mutteringly. "I am worthy of this,--very, very
worthy! Generous, noble girl! had I been an emperor, I would have bowed
down to you in worship; but to debase, to degrade you,--no! no!"

"Is there debasement in love?" murmured Lucy.

Clifford gazed upon her with a sort of enthusiastic and self-gratulatory
pride; perhaps he felt to be thus loved and by such a creature was
matter of pride, even in the lowest circumstances to which he could ever
be exposed. He drew his breath hard, set his teeth, and answered,--

"You could love, then, an outcast, without birth, fortune, or character?
No! you believe this now, but you could not.

"Could you desert your country, your friends, and your home,--all that
you are born and fitted for? Co