“I don’t wish you, my dear Miss Goodwin, to believe it; I only wish you to suspend your opinion until time shall convince you.  I considered it my duty to mention the fact, and after that to leave you to the exercise of your own judgment.”

“I will not believe it,” replied Alice, “because I place his estrangement to a higher and nobler motive, and one more in accordance with his honorable and generous character.  I do believe, Mr. Woodward, that his apparent coldness to me, of late, proceeds from delicacy, and a disinterestedness that is honorable to him; at least I will interpret his conduct in this light until I am perfectly convinced that he is the profligate you describe him.  I do not impute, in the disclosure you have made, ungenerous motives to you; because, if you attempted to displace my affections from your brother by groundless slander or deliberate falsehood, you would be a monster, and as such I would look upon you, and will, if it appears that you are maligning him for selfish purposes of your own.  I will now tell you to what I impute his apparent estrangement; I impute it to honor, sir—­to an honorable pride.  He knows now that I am rich; at least comparatively so, and that he is comparatively poor; he hesitates to renew our relations with each other lest I might suspect him of mingling a selfish principle with his affection.  That is the conduct of a man of honor; and until the facts you hint at come out broadly, and to public proof, as such I shall continue to consider him.  But, Mr. Woodward, I shall not rest here; I shall see him, and give him that to which his previous affection and honorable conduct have entitled him at my hands—­that is, an opportunity of making an explanation to myself.  But, at all events, I assure you of this fact, that, if I do not marry him, I shall never marry another.”

“Great God!” exclaimed Woodward, “what a jewel he has lost.  Well, Miss Goodwin, I have nothing further to say; if I am wrong, time will convict me.  I have mentioned these matters to you, not on my own account but yours.  I have no hope of your affection; and if there were any living man, except myself, to whom I should wish to see you united, it would be my brother Charles—­that is, if I thought he was worthy of you.  All I ask of you, however, is to wait a little; remain calm and quiet, and time will tell you which of us feels the deepest interest in your happiness.  In the meantime, aware of your attachment to him, as I am, I beg you will no longer consider me in any other light than that of a sincere friend.  To seduce innocence, indeed—­but I will not dwell upon it; the love of woman, they say, is generous and forgiving; I hope yours will be so.  But, Miss Goodwin, as I can approach you no longer in the character of a lover, I trust I may be permitted the privilege of visiting the family as a friend and acquaintance.  Now that your decision against me is known, it will be contrary to the wishes of our folks at home; especially of my mother, whose temper, as I suppose you are aware, is none of the coolest; you will allow me, then, to visit you, but no longer as claimant for your hand.”