"It is I who am in fault, Patience," replied Edward. "I have been dreaming for a long while, pleased with my dreams, and forgetting that they were dreams, and not likely to be realized. I must now speak plainly. I love you, Patience; love you so much, that to part from you would be misery-to know that my love was rejected, as bitter as death. That is the truth, and I can conceal it no longer. Now I admit you have a right to be angry."
"I see no cause for anger, Edward," replied Patience. "I have not thought of you but as a friend and benefactor; it would have been wrong to have done otherwise. I am but a young person, and must be guided by my father. I would not offend him by disobedience. I thank you for your good opinion of me, and yet I wish you had not said what you have."
"Am I to understand from your reply, that, if your father raised no objection, my lowly birth would be none in your opinion?"
"Your birth has never come into my head, except when reminded of it by yourself."
"Then, Patience, let me return for the present to what I had to confide to you. I was—"
"Here comes my father, Edward," said Patience. "Surely I have done wrong, for I feel afraid to meet him."
Mr. Heatherstone now joined them, and said to Edward—
"I have been looking for you: I have news from London which has rejoiced me much. I have at last obtained what I have some time been trying for; and, indeed, I may say, that your prudence and boldness in returning home as a trooper, added to your conduct in the forest, has greatly advanced, and ultimately obtained for me, my suit. There was some suspense before that, but your conduct has removed it; and now we shall have plenty to do."
They walked to the house, and the intendant, as soon as he had gained his own room, said to Edward—
"There is a grant to me of a property which I have long solicited for my services—read it."