gazing on the scene we have just described; but the lover's gaze was
on his mistress, and the maiden's eye was bent on the ground.

"'Tis even so, Adeline. We must part. And yet the time may come,
when----But thou art chill, Adeline. The words freeze ere they pass my
lips, even as thine own; for I never yet could melt the frost-work
from thy soul. Still silent? Well. I know thy heart is not another's;
and yet thou dost hesitate, and linger, and turn away thy cold grey
eyes when I would fain kindle them from mine. Nay, Adeline; I know
thou lovest me. Ay! draw back so proudly, and offer up thine and thy
true lover's happiness for ever on the altar of thy pride."

"Since thou knowest this heart so well," retorted the haughty maiden,
"methinks it were a bootless wish to wear it on thy sleeve, save for
the purpose of admiring thine own skill and bravery in the
achievement."

"Thou wrongest me, Adeline; 'tis not my wish. Say thou art mine; we
are then safe. No earthly power shall part us. But I warn thee,
maiden, that long years of misery and anguish will be our portion
should we separate while our troth is yet unplighted. This ring," said
he, drawing off his glove, "is indifferently well set. The bauble was
made by a skilful and cunning workman. The pearls have the true orient
tinge, and this opal hath an eye like the hue of the morning,
changeable as--woman's favour. How bright at times!--warm and radiant
with gladness, now dull, cold, hazy, and"----unfeeling, he would have
said, but he leaned on the slender barrier as he spoke, and his eye
wandered away over the dim and distant wave, across which he was about
to depart. Whether he saw it, or his eye was too intently fixed on the
dark and appalling future, we presume not to determine.

"A woman's favour, like thy similes, Mortimer, hath its colour by
reflection. Thou seest but thine own beam in't; the hue and temper of
thy spirit. We have no form nor feeling of our own, forsooth; we but
give back the irradiation we receive."

"Thou canst jest, Adeline. Thy chillness comes upon my spirit like the
keen ice-wind; it freezes while it withers."

The maiden turned aside her head, perhaps to hide a gleam of
tenderness that belied her speech.

"Adeline, dark hours of sorrow are before thee! Think not to escape."

He seized her hand.

"Shouldst thou wed another, a doom is thine--a doom from which even
thought recoils."

He looked steadfastly upon her, but the maiden sp