"What! everything for which one human being can pardon another. Have not
deceit and injury been my crimes against you? Your peace of mind, your
serenity of heart, your buoyancy of temper,--have I marred these or not?"

"Oh, Clifford!" said Lucy, rising from herself and from all selfish
thoughts, "why, why will you not trust me? You do not know me, indeed
you do not,--you are ignorant even of the very nature of a woman, if you
think me unworthy of your confidence! Do you believe I could betray it,
or do you think that if you had done that for which all the world forsook
you, I could forsake?"

Lucy's voice faltered at the last words; but it sank, as a stone sinks
into deep waters, to the very core of Clifford's heart. Transported from
all resolution and all forbearance, he wound his arms around her in one
long and impassioned caress; and Lucy, as her breath mingled with his,
and her cheek drooped upon his bosom, did indeed feel as if the past
could contain no secret powerful enough even to weaken the affection with
which her heart clung to his. She was the first to extricate herself
from their embrace. She drew back her face from his, and smiling on him
through her tears, with a brightness that the smiles of her earliest
youth had never surpassed, she said,--

"Listen to me. Tell me your history or not, as you will. But believe
me, a woman's wit is often no despicable counsellor. They who accuse
themselves the most bitterly are not often those whom it is most
difficult to forgive; and you must pardon me if I doubt the extent of the
blame you would so lavishly impute to yourself. I am now alone in the
world" (here the smile withered from Lucy's lips). "My poor father is
dead. I can injure no one by my conduct; there is no one on earth to
whom I am bound by duty. I am independent, I am rich. You profess to