dress, and the deep flush encouraged him to go on.
"Dearest—sweetest!" continued he, passionately, "tell me that we may yet be happy; that the devotion of my whole life will atone."
"Mr. Courtenaye," returned Ethel, endeavouring to move away, "you will pardon me if I decline listening to protestations, of whose value I am now fully aware!"
"Listen, my more than beloved, my idolised Ethel!" exclaimed he, snatching her hands, and detaining her; "do not rashly throw from you a heart so utterly your own: my only hope of happiness in this world depends upon you: you know not how I love you!"
"This is not the first time that I have heard a similar assertion from Mr. Courtenaye," replied Ethel, with whom indignation was rapidly mastering every other feeling. It was impossible for her to listen to words of love from Norbourne, and not recollect how undoubting had been her early confidence, and how cruelly it had been betrayed.
