“One moment more, beloved Lenora!  Hear what I have to tell you.  My uncle refused me your hand; I wept, I besought him, but nothing could change his determination.  In despair I was transported beyond myself; I rebelled against my benefactor; and, treating him like an ungrateful wretch, I said a thousand things for which I begged his pardon on my knees when reason resumed her empire over my excited soul.  My uncle is goodness itself to me:  he pardoned my sin; but he imposed the condition that I should instantly undertake a journey with him to Italy, which he has long designed making.  He idly hopes that travel may obliterate your image from my mind; but think not, Lenora, that I can ever forget you!  A sudden thought flashed through my fancy, and I accepted his terms with a secret joy.  For months and months I will be alone with my uncle; and, watching him ever with the love and gratitude I feel for all his kindness, I will gradually wear away his objections, and, conquering his heart, return, my love, to place the bridal wreath upon your brow, and claim you, before the altar of God, as the companion of my choice!”

For an instant a gentle smile overspread the maiden’s face, and her clear, earnest gaze was full of rapture at the vision of future happiness; but the gleam disappeared almost as quickly as it arose, and she answered him, with bitter sadness,—­

“Alas! my dear friend, it is cruel to destroy this last hope of your heart; and yet I must do it.  Your uncle might consent; but my father—­”

She faltered for an instant.

“Your father, Lenora?  Your father would pardon all and receive me like a long-lost son.”

“No, no; believe it not, Gustave; for his honor has been too deeply wounded.  As a Christian he might pardon it; but as a gentleman he will never forget the outrage.”

“Oh, Lenora, you are unjust to your father.  If I return with my uncle’s consent, and say to him, ’I will make your child happy; give her to me for my wife; I will surround her path with all the joys a husband has ever bestowed on woman;’—­if I tell him this, think you he will deny me?”

Lenora cast down her eyes.

“You know his infinite goodness, Gustave,” said she.  “My happiness is his only thought on earth; he will thank God and bless you.”

“Yes, yes; he will consent,” continued Gustave, with ardor; “and all is not lost.  A blessed ray lightens our future, and let it rekindle your hope, beloved of my heart!  Yield not to grief; let me go forth on this dreary journey, but let me bear along with me the assurance that you await my return with trust in God.  Remember me in your prayers; utter my name as you stray through these lonely paths which witnessed the dawn of our love and where for two months I drained the cup of perfect bliss.  The knowledge that I am not forgotten by you will sustain my heart and enable me to endure the pangs of separation.”