"Lady Boisdale—Ethel! you know for whom my heart has thirsted, you know why to me the world is bitter and life a mockery! It is because I love you—I love you, Ethel, and I have not dared to hope. If you can forgive me my presumption. If you can—if you can love me—oh, Ethel, you know I have loved so long and hopelessly. Forgive me if I have forgotten the gulf which yawns between us. Why should I not?" he exclaimed, suddenly and passionately. "Is it a crime to love a noble woman, because she is an earl's daughter? Hearts are not given to the rich and mighty alone. The peasant revels in the power to love, and I—I who kneel at your feet pleading for your pardon, feel that I have not sinned against Heaven or man, but have simply obeyed the pure impulse of my soul in daring to love you. Ethel, Ethel, you too condemn me!"
And with a tone of despair and reproach, he half rose.
"No! no!" cried Ethel, turning to him and laying her white, trembling hand upon his arm. "No, no. Condemn you! I love you!"
CHAPTER XXIV.
A TRYING INTERVIEW.
So Bertie had declared love, and won an acknowledgment from Ethel that his love was returned.
"Ethel," he said, and the name sounded wonderfully sweet as he dwelt upon it with loving tenderness, "Ethel, I must go to the earl and ask for my pearl of price. Shall I go to-morrow?"
Ethel turned pale and sighed.
"To-morrow?" she said. "Yes, must it be so soon?"