"But," resumed Harley, with a calm, in which a certain deep mournfulness
was apparent, unconsciously to himself, "but I trust you are reserved for
a fairer fate, and a nobler spouse. I have vowed to live henceforth in
the common workday world. But for you, bright child, for you, I am a
dreamer still!"

Violante turned her eyes for one instant towards the melancholy speaker.
The look thrilled to his heart. He bowed his face involuntarily. When
he looked up, she had left his side. He did not this time attempt to
follow her, but moved away and plunged amidst the leafless trees.

An hour afterwards he re-entered the house, and again sought to see
Helen. She had now recovered sufficiently to give him the interview he
requested.

He approached her with a grave and serious gentleness. "My dear Helen,"
said he, "you have consented to be my wife, my life's mild companion; let
it be soon--soon--for I need you. I need all the strength of that holy
tie. Helen, let me press you to fix the time."

"I owe you too much," answered Helen, looking down, "to have any will but
yours. But your mother," she added, perhaps clinging to the idea of some
reprieve,--"your mother has not yet--"

"My mother--true. I will speak first to her. You shall receive from my
family all honour due to your gentle virtues. Helen, by the way, have
you mentioned to Violante the bond between us?"

"No; that is, I fear I may have unguardedly betrayed it, against Lady
Lansmere's commands too--but--but--"