'Neither as a clergyman, nor as a Dynevor, can I consent to trick
even those who have no claim to her duty!'

'Neither as a gentleman, nor as a human creature,' added Louis, in
the same tone. 'Shall I go back and give your answer?'

'No; you are walking lame enough already.'

'No matter for that.'

'To tell you the truth, I can't stand your being with her again,
while I am made a fool of by that woman. If I'm not to see her, I'll
be off. I'll send her a note; we will cross to Bickleypool, and
start by the mail-train this very night.'

Louis made no objection, and James hurried him into the little
parlour, where in ten minutes the note was dashed off:--


My Own Most Precious One!--(as, thanks to my most unselfish of
cousins, I may dare to call you,)--I regret my fervency and urgency
for an interview, since it led you to think I could purchase even
such happiness by a subterfuge unworthy of my calling, and an ill
return of the hospitality to which we owed our first meeting. We
will meet when I claim you in the face of day, without the sense of
stolen felicity, which is a charm to common-place minds. My glory is
in the assurance that you understand my letter, approve, and are
relieved. With such sanction, and with ardour before you like mine,
I see that you could do no other than consent, and there is not a
shadow of censure in my mind; but if, without compromising your sense