"Only so."

"And for that reason, chiefly, nay entirely, you condescend to forget
what I have been, and seek my hand? Well, if that were all, I owe you
too much; my poor babe tells me too loudly what I owe you to draw back
from anything that can give you so blessed an enjoyment. Ah, one's
child! one's own child, under one's own roof, it _is_ such a blessing!
But then, if I marry you, it can be only to secure to you that object; to
be as a mother to your child; but wife only in name to you! I am not so
lost as to despise myself. I know now, though I knew it not at first,
that I have been guilty; nothing can excuse that guilt but fidelity to
_him_! Oh, yes! I never, never can be unfaithful to my babe's father!
As for all else, dispose of me as you will." And Alice, who from very
innocence had uttered all this without a blush, now clasped her hands
passionately, and left Templeton speechless with mortification and
surprise.

When he recovered himself, he affected not to understand her; but Alice
was not satisfied, and all further conversation ceased. He began slowly,
and at last, and after repeated conferences and urgings, to comprehend
how strange and stubborn in some points was the humble creature whom his
proposals so highly honoured. Though his daughter was indeed his first
object in life; though for her he was willing to make a _mesalliance_,
the extent of which it would be incumbent on him studiously to
conceal,--yet still, the beauty of Alice awoke an earthlier sentiment
that he was not disposed to conquer. He was quite willing to make
promises, and talk generously; but when it came to an oath,--a solemn, a
binding oath--and this Alice rigidly exacted,--he was startled, and drew
back. Though hypocritical, he was, as we have before said, a most
sincere believer. He might creep through a promise with unbruised