in age, am yet so far thine elder in the last, that these hairs will
be gray, and this form bent, while thy beauty is in its prime, and--but
thou weepest!"

"I weep that thou shouldst bring one thought of time to sadden my
thoughts, which are of eternity. Love knows no age, it foresees no
grave! its happiness and its trust behold on the earth but one glory,
melting into the hues of heaven, where they who love lastingly pass
calmly on to live forever! See, I weep not now!"

"And did not this honest burgher," pursued Hastings, softened and
embarrassed, but striving to retain his cruel purpose, "tell thee to
distrust me; tell thee that my vows were false?"

"Methinks, if an angel told me so, I should disbelieve!"

"Why, look thee, Sibyll, suppose his warning true; suppose that at this
hour I sought thee with intent to say that that destiny which ambition
weaves for itself forbade me to fulfil a word hotly spoken; that I could
not wed thee,--should I not seem to thee a false wooer, a poor trifler
with thy earnest heart; and so, couldst thou not recall the love of him
whose truer and worthier homage yet lingers in thine ear, and with him
be happy?"

Sibyll lifted her dark eyes, yet humid, upon the unrevealing face of
the speaker, and gazed on him with wistful and inquiring sadness; then,
shrinking from his side, she crossed her arms meekly on her bosom, and
thus said,--

"If ever, since we parted, one such thought hath glanced across
thee--one thought of repentance at the sacrifice of pride, or the
lessening of power--which (she faltered, broke off the sentence, and
resumed)--in one word, if thou wouldst retract, say it now, and I will
not accuse thy falsehood, but bless thy truth."

"Thou couldst be consoled, then, by thy pride of woman, for the loss of
an unworthy lover?"

"My lord, are these questions fair?"

Hastings was silent. The gentler part of his nature struggled severely
with the harder. The pride of Sibyll moved him no less than her trust;
and her love in both was so evident, so deep, so exquisitely contrasting
the cold and frivolous natures amidst which his lot had fallen, that
he recoiled from casting away forever a heart never to be replaced.
Standing on that bridge of life, with age before and youth behind, he
felt that never again could he be so loved, or, if so loved by one so
worthy of whatever of pure affection, of young romance, was yet left to
his melancholy and lonely soul.

He took her