once more—only once more, and Fate may then do her worst!' Lucy! dear, dear, Lucy! forgive me for my weakness. It is now in bitter and stern reality, the very last I can be guilty of!"
As he spoke, Clifford sank beside her. He took both her hands in his, and holding them, though without pressure, again looked passionately upon her innocent yet eloquent face. It seemed as if he were moved beyond all the ordinary feelings of re-union and of love. He did not attempt to kiss the hands he held; and though the touch thrilled through every vein and fibre in his frame, his clasp was as light as that in which the first timidity of a boy's love ventures to stamp itself!
"You are pale, Lucy," said he mournfully, "and your cheek is much thinner than it was when I first saw you—when I first saw you! Ah! would for your sake that that had never been! Your spirits were light then, Lucy. Your laugh came from the heart,—your step spurned the earth. Joy broke from your eyes, every thing that breathed around you seemed full of happiness and mirth! and now, look upon me, Lucy; lift those soft eyes, and teach
