"I cannot tell," replied Miss Arleigh, her beautiful young face flushing as she spoke.
"He said, ah! that he would rather love you unhappily than be blessed with the love of a queen; he would rather look upon your face once than gaze for years on the loveliest of all created women. How he worships you! Are all men of genius destined to love unhappily, I wonder?"
"Is he so very unhappy?" asked the young lady, sadly.
"Yes; I do not believe he knows what peace or rest is. He never sleeps or enjoys himself as other people do."
"Why not?" asked the girl, to whom this flattery was most sweet and pleasant.
"His life is one long thought of you. If you were poor, he would not mind; there would be some hope of winning you; he would not let any other barrier than riches stand before him—that is one that honorable men cannot climb."
"I do not see it," said Miss Arleigh.
"Because you do not know the world. You are so noble in mind yourself, you do not even understand want of nobility in others. Do you not know that there are many people who would pretend to love you for the sake of your fortune?"
"I wish I had no fortune," said the young girl, wistfully. "How shall I know, Adelaide, when any one loves me for myself?"
"When they are, like Allan, willing to die rather than to own their love; willing to suffer everything and anything rather than be suspected of fortune-hunting."