“‘Has he given any reason why?’ I asked, in tremulous tones.

“‘Yes,’ she replied, ’but such as mortify me as much as they must pain you.  He says that your fortune and family connections are not sufficient to permit the alliance.  Oh, I implore you not to suppose these to be my sentiments.  I know your family is devoid of ignoble stain, and that your fortune was once second to none.  Had I the disposal of Laura’s hand it should be yours!’

“‘I believe it, Mrs. Arras!’ said I.  ’But do you net think these
objections of Judge ____ may be overcome?’

“‘Alas, never!’ she replied; ’he is immovable when any thing of moment is decided in his mind.’

“‘But,’ I continued, while the pulsations of my heart were distinctly audible, ‘what says Laura?’

“’Would I had been spared this question!  You saw her a few minutes since.  HE who sees all things knows how my heart ached while I sat by.  I can only tell you she had just finished reading her father’s letter when Mr. Wold was announced.  Spare me, now, I beseech you!’ I folded my arms and gazed, I know not how long, at the flame ascending from the hearth.  Oh! the agony described of the dying were bliss to that moment.  What could I think or do?  I sat like one whose heart has been rudely torn from his breast, and who was yet debarred the relief of death.  Existence to me at that moment was a hell, and my sufferings were those of the damned!  I thank God I have survived them.

“I was aroused from my lethargy by hearing the street door close after Wold, and I desired Mrs. Arras to permit me to have an interview with Laura alone.  It was granted, and I was soon in the presence of the lovely maid.  She was aware of my perturbation and its cause.  She sat with her eyes cast down in silence.  I looked upon her form and her features of perfect beauty, and oh! what tongue can describe the mingled and contending emotions that convulsed my breast!  I repressed every violent or boisterous inclination of my spirits, however, and taking her unresisting hand, sat down in sorrow at her side.

“‘Laura,’ said I, with difficulty finding utterance, ’do we thus part, and for ever?’ She made no answer, but gazed steadfastly at the rich carpet, while her face, though somewhat paler than usual, betrayed no change of muscle.

“‘Laura,’ I repeated, in tones more distinct, ’are we now to part, and for ever?’

“‘Father says so,’ she replied.  Her hand fell from my grasp.  The unmoved, indifferent manner of her reply froze my blood in my veins!  I again stared at her composed features in astonishment allied to contempt.

“‘But what do you say?’ I asked, with a bluntness that startled her.

“‘Father knows best, perhaps!’ she replied, turning her eyes to mine, I thought, with calmness.