Ah, sleep! that I may feel thou art
Within _one_ world that is my own.

As the music died away, Lucy sank back once more, and the drawing which
she held was pressed (with cheeks glowing, though unseen, at the act) to
her lips. And though the character of her lover was uncleared, though
she herself had come to no distinct resolution even to inform him of the
rumours against his name, yet so easily restored was her trust in him,
and so soothing the very thought of his vigilance and his love, that
before an hour had passed, her eyes were closed in sleep. The drawing
was laid, as a spell against grief, under her pillow; and in her dreams
she murmured his name, and unconscious of reality and the future, smiled
tenderly as she did so!




CHAPTER XIX.

Come, the plot thickens! and another fold
Of the warm cloak of mystery wraps us around.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And for their loves?
Behold the seal is on them!

Tanner of Tyburn.

We must not suppose that Clifford's manner and tone were towards Lucy
Brandon such as they seemed to others. Love refines every roughness; and
that truth which nurtures tenderness is never barren of grace. Whatever