"A very young, a very beautiful, a very wretched, girl!" he answered.
"And you love her?" she said, with an effort at firmness, which itself proved the violence of her emotion.
"By your life! Julia, I do not!" he replied, with an energy, that spoke well for the truth of his asseveration.
"Nor ever loved her?"
"Nor ever—loved her, Julia." But he hesitated a little as he said it; and laid a peculiar stress on the word loved, which did not escape the anxious ears of the lovely being, whose whole soul hung suspended on his speech.
"Why not?" she asked, after a moment's pause, "if she be so very young, and so very beautiful?"
"I might answer, because I never saw her, 'till I loved one more beautiful. But—"
"But you will not!" she interrupted him vehemently. "Oh! if you love me? if you do love me, Paullus, do not answer me so."
"And wherefore not?" he asked her, half smiling, though little mirthful in his heart, at her impetuosity.
"Because if you descend to flatter," answered the fair girl quietly, "I shall be sure that you intended to deceive me."