them to flash upon me indignation and contempt! Oh, not thus, not thus! I could leave you happy,—yes, literally blest,—if I could fancy you less forgiving, less gentle, less angelic!"
"What have I to forgive?"" said Lucy tenderly.
"What! every thing 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
