reject him, even though she broke his heart by doing so, than that she
should accept his offer if she did not love him.

"I scarcely think there is a greater sin, Lucy," he said, solemnly,
"than that of a woman who marries a man she does not love. You are so
precious to me, my beloved, that deeply as my heart is set on this, and
bitter as the mere thought of disappointment is to me, I would not have
you commit such a sin for any happiness of mine. If my happiness could
be achieved by such an act, which it could not--which it never could,"
he repeated, earnestly--"nothing but misery can result from a marriage
dictated by any motive but truth and love."

Lucy Graham was not looking at Sir Michael, but straight out into the
misty twilight and dim landscape far away beyond the little garden. The
baronet tried to see her face, but her profile was turned to him, and he
could not discover the expression of her eyes. If he could have done so,
he would have seen a yearning gaze which seemed as if it would have
pierced the far obscurity and looked away--away into another world.

"Lucy, you heard me?"

"Yes," she said, gravely; not coldly, or in any way as if she were
offended at his words.

"And your answer?"

She did not remove her gaze from the darkening country side, but for
some moments was quite silent; then turning to him, with a sudden
passion in her manner, that lighted up her face with a new and wonderful
beauty which the baronet perceived even in the growing twilight, she