her softness and docile temper as imbecility, rendering her unworthy of his regard. But they stood pledged to each other; and Lucy only feared that her lover's pride might one day teach him to regret his attachment, Ravenswood that a mind so ductile as Lucy's might, in absence or difficulties, be induced, by the entreaties or influence of those around her, to renounce the engagement she had formed.
"Do not fear it," said Lucy, when, upon one occasion, a hint of such suspicion escaped her lover; "the mirrors which receive the reflection of all successive objects are framed of hard materials like glass or steel—the softer substances, when they receive an impression, retain it undefaced."
"This is poetry, Lucy," said Ravenswood; "and in poetry there is always fallacy, and sometimes fiction."
"Believe me then, once more, in honest prose," said Lucy, "that, though I will never wed man without the consent of my
