is in vain to regret, sir; my sufferings have been greater than
yours.'

'She will pardon you, my boy,' said Sir Ratcliffe, in a quicker and
kinder tone. 'You have lived to repent your impetuous folly; Katherine
is kind and generous; she loves us all; she must love you; she will
pardon you. Yes! entreat her to forget it; your mother, your mother has
great influence with her; she will exercise it, she will interfere; you
are very young, all will yet be well.'

'It is as impossible for me to marry Katherine Grandison, as for you
yourself to do it, sir,' said Ferdinand, in a tone of calmness.

'You are not married to another?'

'In faith; I am bound by a tie which I can never break.'

'And who is this person?'

'She must be nameless, for many reasons.'

'Ferdinand,' said Sir Ratcliffe, 'you know not what you are doing.
My life, your mother's, the existence of our family, hang upon your
conduct. Yet, yet there is time to prevent this desolation. I am
controlling my emotions; I wish you to save us, you, all! Throw yourself
at your cousin's feet. She is soft-hearted; she may yet be yours!'

'Dear father, it cannot be.'

'Then-then, welcome ruin!' exclaimed Sir Ratcliffe, in a hoarse voice.
'And,' he continued, pausing between every word, from the difficulty
of utterance, 'if the conviction that you have destroyed all our hopes,
rewarded us for all our affection, our long devotion, by blasting every
fond idea that has ever illumined our sad lives, that I and Constance,
poor fools, have clung and clung to; if this conviction can console you,
sir, enjoy it-----

'Ferdinand! my son, my child, that I never have spoken an unkind word
to, that never gave me cause to blame or check him, your mother will be
home soon, your poor, poor mother. Do not let me welcome her with all
this misery. Tell me it is not true; recall what you have said; let us
forget these harsh words; reconcile yourself to your cousin; let us be
happy.'

'Father, if my heart's blood could secure your happiness, my life were
ready; but this I cannot do.'

'Do you know what is at stake? Everything. All, all, all! We can see
Armine no more; our home is gone. Your mother and myself must be exiles.
Oh! you have not thought of this: say you have not thought of this.'

Ferdinand hid his face; his father, emboldened, urged the fond plea.
'You will save us, Ferdinand, you will be our preserver? It is all
forgotten, is it not? It is a lovers' quarrel, after