turned to him by-and-by with an earnest anxious face, and said,--

"Gilbert, there is something which I think I ought to say to you before
you go away."

"What is that, my darling?"

"It is rather hard to say. I fear it will give you pain. I have been
thinking about it for a long time. The thought has been a constant
reproach to me. Gilbert, it would be better if we were both free; better
if you could leave England without any tie to weigh you down with
anxieties when you are out yonder, and will have so much occasion for
perfect freedom of mind."

"Marian!"

"O, pray, pray don't think me ungrateful or unmindful of your goodness to
me. I am only anxious for your happiness. I am not steady enough, or
fixed enough, in my mind. I am not worthy of all the thought and care you
have given me."

"Marian, have I done anything to forfeit your love?"

"O no, no."

"Then why do you say these things to me? Do you want to break my heart?"

"Would it break your heart if I were to recall my promise, Gilbert?"

"Yes, Marian," he answered gravely, drawing her suddenly to him, and