“It cannot be in this case. The evidence is complete, conclusive, convicting! No one can doubt that the issue of her trial will be condemnation to death. And all that I have left to hope is, that the last Leaton of Allworth will have the grace to die by her own hand in the prison, rather than become a spectacle to the gaping crowd.”
“But, Norham, I do not think that she is guilty, and I pray and hope and trust that she may be proved innocent, as from my soul I believe her to be!”
“That is because you cannot conceive iniquity like hers, as Heaven forbid you should, sweet saint! And now, dear Alma, you must leave me, and go home immediately. In my selfish love, I have wronged you in keeping you out so late. And now, to atone for that injury, I must tell you something that, in your innocence, you would never find out yourself—something that will effectually arm you against me—”
“Then do not tell me at all! For if it is anything innocence could not of itself discover, be sure it is not worth discovering. And as to its arming me against you, dear Norham, I cannot consider you an enemy, and therefore do not wish to be armed.”
“Yet, nevertheless, I will arm you with this knowledge of the world, which you may use, abuse, or neglect at your pleasure. Listen, then, dear Alma. Even these meetings that you accord me are so heterodox to all conventionality, that were they known they would seriously compromise your good name, and nothing, Alma, but our full sincerity of purpose to marry, as soon as you shall become of age, could justify these interviews. But, Alma, not even our betrothal will warrant you in remaining out here with me after sunset. Alma, I tell you this, that your own mother should have told you, because, dear one, I would not take the very least advantage of your inexperience. Therefore, dear Alma, never in future yield even to my persuasions to detain you out here after sunset. Thus, you see, while my better spirit is in the ascendant, I would warn you, arm you even against myself!”
“You are the soul of honor! If I had not known it before, I should know it now! Good-night,” said Alma, in a low voice.
“One more caution in parting, love! It is not usual, or even safe, for young ladies to talk with strangers whom they may casually meet in their walks. Therefore, Alma, I must pray you that the scene of this afternoon may never be repeated, and entreat you to promise me never again to fall into conversation with any stranger whom you may meet in your rambles.”
Norham Montrose paused and waited for her answer.
Alma hesitated for a moment, and then replied:
“I promise you, Norham, never to hold conversation with any one in my walks except yourself, or some blood relation of my own, or some servant of our family. I think that my promise covers the whole ground!”