“Yet, I pray you, Mr. Colleton, let nothing make you indifferent to the warning I have given you.  There is danger—­more danger here to you than to me—­though, to me”—­the tears filled in her eyes as she spoke, and her head sunk down on her breast with an air of the saddest self-abandonment—­“there is more than death.”

The youth again took her hand.  He understood too well the signification of her speech, and the sad sacrifice which it referred to; and an interest in her fate was awakened in his bosom, which made him for a moment forget himself and the gentle Edith of his own dreams.

“Command me, Miss Munro, though I peril my life in your behalf; say that I can serve you in anything, and trust me to obey.”

She shook her head mournfully, but without reply.  Again he pressed his services, which were still refused.  A little more firmly, however, she again urged his departure.

“My solicitations have no idle origin.  Believe me, you are in danger, and have but little time for delay.  I would not thus hurry you, but that I would not have you perish.  No, no! you have been gentle and kind, as few others have been, to the poor orphan; and, though I would still see and hear you, I would not that you should suffer.  I would rather suffer myself.”

Much of this was evidently uttered with the most childish unconsciousness.  Her mind was obviously deeply excited with her fears, and when the youth assured her, in answer to her inquiries, that he should proceed in the morning on his journey, she interrupted him quickly—­

“To-day—­to-day—­now—­do not delay, I pray you.  You know not the perils which a night may bring forth.”

When assured that he himself could perceive no cause of peril, and when, with a manner sufficiently lofty, he gave her to understand that a feeling of pride alone, if there were no other cause, would prevent a procedure savoring so much of flight, she shook her head mournfully, though saying nothing.  In reply to his offer of service, she returned him her thanks, but assuring him he could do her none, she retired from the apartment.

CHAPTER XVII.

REMORSE.

During the progress of the dialogue narrated in the conclusion of our last chapter, Forrester had absented himself, as much probably with a delicate sense of courtesy, which anticipated some further results than came from it, as with the view to the consummation of some private matters of his own.  He now returned, and signifying his readiness to Ralph, they mounted their horses and proceeded on a proposed ride out of the village, in which Forrester had promised to show the youth a pleasanter region and neighborhood.