"You were not wont to indulge a gloomy or anxious spirit, Luciè; and why
should you _now_ yield to it? Nay, but an hour or two since, you parted
with apparent composure from all; and what has since happened to
occasion this regret? and why should you conceal it from me, who have so
long been your friend and confidant?"

"From _you_, dear aunt, I would conceal nothing; you have a right to
know every thought and wish of my heart; but"--

"But what?" asked Mad. la Tour, as she hesitated; "answer me one
question, Luciè; has not Mr. Stanhope but just now quitted you?"

"He has," said Luciè, deeply blushing, though her ingenuous countenance
told that she was relieved from a painful reserve; "and now all is known
to you,--all,--and more, perhaps, than I ought, at present, to have
revealed."

"More, far more, than you ought ever to have had it in your power to
reveal!" said Mad. de la Tour, in an accent of displeasure; "and it is
for this stranger that you have slighted the wishes of your natural
guardians,--that you have rejected the love of one, in every respect
worthy of your choice!"

"Those wishes were inconsistent with my duty," returned Luciè; "and that
love I could never recompense! Dearest aunt," she added, and the tears
again filled her eyes, "forgive me in this one instance; it is the only
thought of my heart, which has been concealed from you; and, believe me,
_this_ was concealed, only to save yourself and me from reproaches,
which, were I now mistress of my actions, I should not fear to meet."