The good old squire sat in an elbow-chair, and a sort of puzzled and half-satisfied complacency gave expression to his features.
"Come hither, child," said he, clearing his throat; "Captain Clifford--ahem!--has done you the honour to--and I dare say you will be very much surprised--not that, for my own part, I think there is much to wonder at in it, but such may be my partial opinion (and it is certainly very natural in me)--to make you a declaration of love.

He declares, moreover, that he is the most miserable of men, and that he would die sooner than have the presumption to hope.

Therefore you see, my love, I have sent for you, to give him permission to destroy himself in any way he pleases; and I leave him to show cause why (it is a fate that sooner or later happens to all his fellowmen) sentence of death should not be passed against him." Having delivered this speech with more propriety of word than usually fell to his share, the squire rose hastily and hobbled out of the room.
Lucy sank into the chair her father had quitted; and Clifford, approaching towards her, said in a hoarse and low voice,-- "Your father, Miss Brandon, says rightly, that I would die rather than lift my eyes in hope to you.

I thought yesterday that I had seen you for the last time; chance, not my own folly or presumption, has brought me again before you; and even the few hours I have passed under the same roof with you have made me feel as if my love, my madness, had never reached its height till now.

Oh, Lucy!" continued Clifford, in a more impassioned tone, and, as if by a sudden and irresistible impulse, throwing himself at her feet, "if I could hope to merit you,--if I could hope to raise myself,--if I could--But no, no, no! I am cut off from all hope, and forever!" There was so deep, so bitter, so heartfelt an anguish and remorse in the voice with which these last words were spoken, that Lucy, hurried off her guard, and forgetting everything in wondering sympathy and compassion, answered, extending her hand towards Clifford, who, still kneeling, seized and covered it with kisses of fire,-- "Do not speak thus, Mr.Clifford; do not accuse yourself of what I am sure, quite sure, you cannot deserve.