“All have then told you wrong.  I am not so fortunate as to possess the affections of Miss Hardinge; and no man will gain her hand who does not first obtain her heart; ay, and her whole heart, too.”

I was astounded!  What!  Lucy not engaged to Drewett; not loving him, by his own admission; not likely to love him!  I believe Andrew had no difficulty in comprehending my feelings in part, for he seemed disposed to continue the subject; and, what was infinitely to his credit, to continue it in a way that should leave no unpleasant uncertainty hanging about the real position of the dear girl.

“It is only quite lately,” he said, “that I have seen the great injustice that I and my family have unconsciously committed towards Miss Hardinge.  As you are an old—­a very old friend of hers, I will be explicit with you, and endeavour, in some small degree, to excuse myself; though I feel that it can never be done fully.  You tell me, that you have heard I was engaged to Miss Hardinge?”

“Unquestionably:  I think it was the opinion of her own father; though he must have believed the promise conditional, as Lucy never would marry without his approbation.”

“Mr. Hardinge has then been strangely misled.  It is true, Mr. Wallingford, that I have long admired Miss Hardinge, and that I offered myself years ago.  I was refused from the first.  But, Lucy had the frankness to own that she was free to dispose of her hand; and I persevered contrary to her advice, her wishes, and I may say her entreaties.  I think she esteems me; and I know she has a strong regard for my mother, who is almost as fond of her as I am myself.  This esteem and regard I hoped might ripen into love, and my presumption has brought its own punishment, It is now about six months—­I remember it was shortly after we heard of your probable loss—­that I had a final conversation with her on the subject, when I became convinced my prospects were hopeless.  Since that time, I have endeavoured to conquer my passion; for love unrequited, I suppose you know, will not last for ever; and I have so far succeeded, as to tell you all this without feeling the pain it would once have cost me.  Still, I retain the deepest respect for Miss Hardinge; and a single encouraging look would even now recall me.  I am of opinion, however, she intends never to marry.  But, let us quit this place, which has no longer any claim on you.”

I was in a state scarcely to know what.  I did.  It was comparatively little to me to learn I was free myself, after so unexpectedly learning that Lucy was also free.  Lucy—­whom I had for years supposed to be irrevocably engaged; and whom I had continued to love, even against hope Andrew Drewett, I fancied, had never loved as I did, or he would not have made the speech he did; or, his love for Lucy had not been a part of his existence from boyhood, as mine had certainly been.  While all these thoughts were passing through my mind, I gave a few directions, took Drewett’s arm, and hurried out of the gaol.