t the recollection
that that hour of acknowledged and mutual love, had proved the signal
of their separation. He referred again to her agonized words, that a
union was impossible, that she dared not wed him; it was sin even
to love him; that in the tumultuary, yet delicious emotions she had
experienced, she had forgotten, utterly forgotten in what it must
end--the agony of desolation for herself, and, if he so loved her, for
Stanley also--and again he conjured her to explain their meaning. They
had been separated, after that fearful interview, by a hasty summons
for him to rejoin his camp; and when he returned, she had vanished.
He could not trace either her or the friend with whom she had been
staying. Don Albert had indeed said, his wife had gone to one of the
southern cities, and his young guest returned to her father's home;
but where that home was, Don Albert had so effectually evaded, that
neither direct questionings nor wary caution could obtain reply. But
he had found her now; they had met once more, and oh, why need they
part again? Why might he not seek her father, and beseech his blessing
and consent?

His words were eloquent, his tone impassioned, and hard indeed the
struggle they occasioned. But Marie wavered not in the repetition
of the same miserable truth, under the impression of which they
had separated before. She conjured him to leave her, to forget the
existence of this hidden valley, for danger threatened her father and
herself if it was discovered. So painful was her evident terror, that
Arthur pledged his honor never to reveal it, declaring that to
retrace the path by which he had discovered it, was even to himself
impossible. But still he urged her, what was this fatal secret? Why
was it sin to love him? Was she the betrothed of another? and the
large drops starting to the young man's brow denoted the agony of the
question.

"No, Arthur, no," was the instant rejoinder: "I never could love,
never could be another's, this trial is hard enough, but it is all I
have to bear. I am not called upon to give my hand to another, while
my heart is solely thine."

"Then wherefore join that harsh word 'sin,' with such pure love, my
Marie? Why send me from you wretched and most lonely, when no human
power divides us?"

"No human power!--alas! alas!--a father's curse--an offended
God--these are too awful to encounter, Arthur. Oh do not try me more;
leave me to my fate, called down by my own weakness, dear