with deep humility,
uttered, in a low, faint voice--

"He who now stands before you!"

"You," cried Kate, as clasping her hands in an ecstacy, she fixed her
tearful eyes upon him. "You would do this?" Then growing suddenly pale,
as a sick shudder came over her, she said, in a deep and broken voice,
"At what price, sir?"

The steady gaze she fixed upon him seemed to awe and abash him, and it
was with unfeigned agitation that he now spoke.

"A price which the devotion of a life long could not repay. Alas! a
price I dare no more aspire to, than hope for."

"Speak plainly, sir," said Kate, in a firm, collected tone, "this is not
a moment for misconception. What part have I to play in this compact,
for by your manner I suppose you include me in it?"

"Forgive me, young lady, I have not courage to place the whole fortunes
of my life upon one cast; already I feel the heaviness of heart that
heralds in misfortune. I would rather live on with even this faint
glimmer of hope than with the darkness of despair for ever." His hands
dropped powerless at his side, his head fell forward on his bosom,
and as if without an effort of his will, almost unconsciously his lips
muttered the words, "I love you."

Had the accents been the sting of an adder they could not have called up
an expression of more painful meaning than flashed over Kate's features.

"And this, then, is the price you hinted at--this was to be the
compact."

The proud look of scorn she threw upon him evoked no angry feeling in
his breast, he seemed overwhelmed by sorrow, and did not dare even to
look up.

"You judge me hardly, unfairly too; I never meant my intercession should
be purchased--humble as I am, I should he still more unworthy, had I
harhoured such a thought; my hope was this, to make my intervention
available, I should show myself linked with the fortunes of that house
I tried to save--it should be a case, where, personally, my own interest
was at stake, and where my fortune, all I possessed in the world was in
the scale, if you consented"--here he hesitated, faltered, and finally
became silent, then passing his hands across his eyes, resumed more
rapidly--"but I must not speak of this; alas! that my tongue should have
ever betrayed it; you have forced my secret from me, and with it my
happiness for ever--forget this, I beseech you forget that, even in a
moment so unguarded, I dared to lift my eyes to the shrine my heart has
worshipped. I ask no