"Not tell me!"

"Better that I should not--better, far better! The duties for which the
high Providence brought us together have been, I think, fairly
accomplished. I have done my part, and you, Mr. Colleton--Ralph, I
mean--you have done yours. There is nothing more that we may not do
apart. Here, then, let our conference end. It is enough that you have
complied with the dying wish of my uncle--that I have not, is not your
fault."

"Not my fault, Lucy, but truly my misfortune. But I give not up my hope
so easily. I still trust that you will think better of your
determination, and conclude to go with us. We have a sweet home, and
should not be altogether so happy in it, with the thought of your
absence for ever in our minds."

"What!--not happy, and she with you!"

"Happy!--yes!--but far happier with both of you. You, my sister, and--"

"Say no more--"

"No more now, but I shall try other lips, perhaps more persuasive than
mine. Edith shall come--"

His words were suddenly arrested by the energetic speech and action of
his companion. She put her hand on his wrist--grasped it--and
exclaimed--

"Let her not come! Bring her not here, Ralph Colleton! I have no wish to
see her--_will not_ see her, I tell you--would not have her see _me_ for
the world!"

Ralph was confounded, and recoiled from the fierce, spasmodic energy of
the speaker, so very much at variance with the subdued tone of her
previous conversation. He little knew what an effort was required
hitherto, on her part, to maintain that tone, and to speak coolly and
quietly of those fortunes, every thought of which brought only
disappointment and agony to her bosom.

She dropped his hand as she concluded, and with eyes still fixed upon
him, she half turned round, as if about to leave the room. But the
crisis of her emotions was reached. She sickened with the effort. Her
limbs grew too weak to sustain her; a sudden faintness overspread all
her faculties--her eyes closed--she gasped hysterically, and tottering
forward, she sank unconscious into the arms of Ralph, which were barely
stretched out in time to save her from falling to the floor. He bore her
to the sofa, and laid her down silently upon it.

He was struck suddenly with the truth to which he had hitherto shown
himself so blind. He would have been the blindest and most obtuse of
mortals, did he now fail to see. That last speech, that last look, and
the fearful paroxysm which followed it, had reve