refusal--the faltering, tearful, but resolute refusal--of his suit.

But Templeton brought new engines to work: he wooed her through her
child; he painted all the brilliant prospects that would open to the
infant by her marriage with him. He would cherish, rear, provide for it
as his own. This shook her resolves; but this did not prevail. He had
recourse to a more generous appeal: he told her so much of his history
with Mary Westbrook as commenced with his hasty and indecorous
marriage,--attributing the haste to love! made her comprehend his
scruples in owning the child of a union the world would be certain to
ridicule or condemn; he expatiated on the inestimable blessings she could
afford him, by delivering him from all embarrassment, and restoring his
daughter, though under a borrowed name, to her father's roof. At this
Alice mused; at this she seemed irresolute. She had long seen how
inexpressibly dear to Templeton was the child confided to her care; how
he grew pale if the slightest ailment reached her; how he chafed at the
very wind if it visited her cheek too roughly; and she now said to him
simply,--

"Is your child, in truth, your dearest object in life? Is it with her,
and her alone, that your dearest hopes are connected?"

"It is,--it is indeed!" said the banker, honestly surprised out of his
gallantry; "at least," he added, recovering his self-possession, "as much
so as is compatible with my affection for you."

"And only if I marry you, and adopt her as my own, do you think that your
secret may be safely kept, and all your wishes with respect to her be
fulfilled?"