“But still you will be my wife—­tell me, Maria?” and he looked imploringly into her own not averted eyes.  “You will be the wife, as you have long been the friend and companion of your Ronayne—­answer me.  Will you not?”

Her head sank upon his shoulder, and the heaving of her bosom, as she gently returned his embrace, alone conveyed the assurance he desired.  She was deeply affected.  She knew the ardent, generous nature of her lover, and she felt that every word that had just fallen from his lips, tended only to unravel the true emotions of his heart:  but soothing as was his impassioned language, she deemed it almost criminal, at such a moment, to listen to it.

“Nay, dearest Harry,” she said, gently disengaging herself from his embrace, “we will be seen.  They may wonder at our delay, and send somebody back from the scow.  Let us proceed.”

“You are right,” replied the young officer, again passing her arm through his own, while they continued their route, “excess of happiness must not cause me to commit an imprudence so great, as that of suffering another to divine the extent.  Yet one word more, dear Maria! and ah! think how much depends upon your answer.  When shall I call you mine?”

“Oh! speak not now of that, Ronayne—­consider the position of my father—­my mother’s health.”

“It is for that very reason that I do ask it,” returned the youth.  “Should Heaven deprive you of the one, as it in some degree threatens you with the loss of the other, what shall so well console you as the tenderness of him who is blessed with your love?”

“Hush, Harry,” and she fondly pressed his arm—­“they will hear you.”

They had now approached the scow, into which the men, having previously deposited the furniture and trunks, were preparing to embark the litter upon which Mrs. Heywood lay extended, with an expression of resignation and repose upon her calm features, that touched the hearts of even these rude men.  Her daughter, half-reproaching herself for not having personally attended to her transport, and only consoled by the recollection of the endearing explanation with her lover, which had chanced to result from her absence, now tenderly inquired how she had borne it, and was deeply gratified to find that the change of air, and gentle exercise to which she had been subjected, had somewhat restored her.  Here was one source of care partly removed, and she felt, if possible, increased affection for the youth to whose considerate attention was owing this favorable change in the condition of a parent, whom she had ever fondly loved.