a woman who marries a man she does not love. You are so precious to me
that, deeply as my heart is set on this, and bitter as the mere thought
of disappointment is to me, I would not have you commit such a sin for
any happiness of mine. Nothing but misery can result from a marriage
dictated by any motive but truth and love."

Lucy for some moments was quite silent. Then, turning to him with a
sudden passion in her manner that lighted up her face with a new and
wonderful beauty, she fell on her knees at his feet. Clutching at a
black ribbon about her throat, she exclaimed:

"How good, how noble, how generous you are! But you ask too much of me.
Only remember what my life has been! From babyhood I have never seen
anything but poverty. My father was a gentleman, but poor; my mother--
but don't let me speak of her. You can never guess what is endured by
genteel paupers. I cannot be disinterested; I cannot be blind to the
advantages of such a marriage. I do not dislike you--no, no; and I do
not love anyone in the world," she added, with a laugh, when asked if
there was anyone else.

Sir Michael was silent for a few moments, and then, with a kind of
effort, said: "Well, Lucy, I will not ask too much of you; but I see no
reason why we should not make a very happy couple."

When Lucy went to her own room she sat down on the edge of the bed, and
murmured: "No more dependence, no more drudgery, no more humiliations!
Every trace of the old life melted away, every clue to identity buried
and forgotten except this"--and she drew from her bosom a black ribbon
and locket, and the object attached to it. It was a ring wrapped in an
oblong piece of crumpled paper, partly written and partly printed.