ints guard thee from one
memory of regret at what hath passed between us!"

He pulled his bonnet hastily over his brows, and departed with unequal
and rapid strides. As he passed the spot where Hastings stood leaning
his arm upon the wall, and his face upon his hand, the nobleman looked
up, and said,--

"Well, Sir Goldsmith, own at least that thy trial hath been a fair one!"
Then struck with the anguish written upon Alwyn's face, he walked up
to him, and, with a frank, compassionate impulse, laid his hand on
his shoulder. "Alwyn," he said, "I have felt what you feel now; I have
survived it, and the world hath not prospered with me less! Take with
you a compassion that respects, and does not degrade you."

"Do not deceive her, my lord,--she trusts and loves you! You never
deceived man,--the wide world says it,--do not deceive woman! Deeds kill
men, words women!" Speaking thus simply, Alwyn strode on, and vanished.

Hastings slowly and silently advanced to Sibyll. Her rejection of Alwyn
had by no means tended to reconcile him to the marriage he himself had
proffered. He might well suppose that the girl, even if unguided by
affection, would not hesitate between a mighty nobleman and an obscure
goldsmith. His pride was sorely wounded that the latter should have even
thought himself the equal of one whom he had proposed, though but in
a passionate impulse, to raise to his own state. And yet as he neared
Sibyll, and, with a light footstep, she sprang forward to meet him, her
eyes full of sweet joy and confidence, he shrank from an avowal which
must wither up a heart opening thus all its bloom of youth and love to
greet him.

"Ah, fair lord," said the maiden, "was it kindly in thee to permit
poor Alwyn to inflict on me so sharp a pain, and thou to stand calmly
distant? Sure, alas! that had thy humble rival proffered a crown, it had
been the same to Sibyll! Oh, how the grief it was mine to cause
grieved me; and yet, through all, I had one selfish, guilty gleam of
pleasure,--to think that I had not been loved so well, if I were all
unworthy the sole love I desire or covet!"

"And yet, Sibyll, this young man can in all, save wealth and a sounding
name, give thee more than I can,--a heart undarkened by moody memories,
a temper unsoured by the world's dread and bitter lore of man's frailty
and earth's sorrow. Ye are not far separated by ungenial years, and
might glide to a common grave hand in hand; but I, older in heart than