"Gerard!"

"Be not angry now!"

"Now, is it likely?"

"I love you."

"Oh, for shame! you must not say that to me," and Margaret coloured
furiously at this sudden assault.

"I can't help it. I love you. I love you."

"Hush, hush! for pity's sake! I must not listen to such words from a
stranger. I am ungrateful to call you a stranger. Oh! how one may be
mistaken! If I had known you were so bold--" And Margaret's bosom began
to heave, and her cheeks were covered with blushes, and she looked
towards her sleeping father, very much like a timid thing that meditates
actual flight.

Then Gerard was frightened at the alarm he caused. "Forgive me," said he
imploringly. "How could any one help loving you?"

"Well, sir, I will try and forgive you--you are so good in other
respects; but then you must promise me never to say you--to say that
again."

"Give me your hand then, or you don't forgive me."

She hesitated; but eventually put out her hand a very little way, very