ovest me no longer, thou canst not despise me."

At these last words Hastings was at her feet, bending over her hand, and
stifled by his emotions. Katherine gazed at him for a moment through her
own tears, and then resumed:--

"But thou hadst, as man, consolations no woman would desire or covet.
And oh, what grieved me most was, not--no, not the jealous, the
wounded vanity, but it was at least this self-accusation, this
remorse--that--but for one goading remembrance, of love returned and
love forsaken,--thou hadst never so descended from thy younger nature,
never so trifled with the solemn trust of TIME. Ah, when I have heard or
seen or fancied one fault in thy maturer manhood, unworthy of thy bright
youth, anger of myself has made me bitter and stern to thee; and if
I taunted or chid or vexed thy pride, how little didst thou know that
through the too shrewish humour spoke the too soft remembrance! For
this--for this; and believing that through all, alas! my image was not
replaced, when my hand was free, I was grateful that I might still--"
(the lady's pale cheek grew brighter than the rose, her voice faltered,
and became low and indistinct)--"I might still think it mine to atone
to thee for the past. And if," she added, with a sudden and generous
energy, "if in this I have bowed my pride, it is because by pride thou
wert wounded; and now, at last, thou hast a just revenge."

O terrible rival for thee, lost Sibyll! Was it wonderful that, while
that head drooped upon his breast, while in that enchanted change which
Love the softener makes in lips long scornful, eyes long proud and cold,
he felt that Katherine Nevile--tender, gentle, frank without boldness,
lofty without arrogance--had replaced the austere dame of Bonville, whom
he half hated while he wooed,--oh, was it wonderful that the soul of
Hastings fled back to the old time, forgot the intervening vows and more
chill affections, and repeated only with passionate lips, "Katherine,
loved still, loved ever, mine, mine, at last!"

Then followed delicious silence, then vows, confessions, questions,
answers,--the thrilling interchange of hearts long divided, and now
rushing into one. And time rolled on, till Katherine, gently breaking
from her lover, said,--

"And now that thou hast the right to know and guide my projects,
approve, I pray thee, my present purpose. War awaits thee, and we must
part a while!" At these words her brow darkened and her lip quivered.
"Oh,