"Mr.Godolphin," she repeated, after a pause, "answer me truly and with candour; not with the world's gallantry, but with a sincere, a plain avowal.

Were you not--in your unguarded expressions last night--were you not excited by the surprise, the passion, of the moment?
Were you not uttering what, had you been actuated only by a calm and premeditated prudence, you would at least have suppressed ?" "Miss Vernon," replied Godolphin, "all that I said last night, I now, in calmness, and with deliberate premeditation, repeat: all that I can dream of happiness is in your hands." "I would, indeed, that I could disbelieve you," said Constance, sorrowfully; "I have considered deeply on your words.

I am touched--made grateful--proud--yes, truly proud--by your confessed affection--but--" "Oh, Constance!" cried Godolphin; in a sudden and agonized voice--and rising, he flung himself impetuously at her feet--"Constance! do not reject me!" He seized her hand: it struggled not with his.

He gazed on her countenance: it was dyed in blushes; and before those blushes vanished, her agitation found relief in tears, which flowed fast and full.
"Beloved!" said Godolphin, with a solemn tenderness, "why struggle with your heart?
That heart I read at this moment: _that_ is not averse to me." Constance wept on.

"I know what you would say, and what you feel," continued Godolphin: "you think that I--that we both are poor: that you could ill bear the humiliations of that haughty poverty which those born to higher fortunes so irksomely endure.