"A lover, perhaps?" said he, affecting to smile.
"Nay, nor even a lover."
"St. Giles!—in what did your secrecy originate?"
"In yourself."
"You are a beautiful enigma," faltered Florence, taking her hands in his, while his heart trembled; "but—but whatever be the result of such an avowal, believe me from my soul when I say, that I had not been here three days before I learned to love you, Lady Madeline—love you dearly, fondly, truly!" he continued, in an almost breathless voice.
She grew very pale, abruptly withdrew her hands, and averted her face; for she felt that the voice of Fawside, like the voices of all who have a sincere and impassioned heart, had a powerful effect upon her.
"Speak to me—speak!" he urged; "do not, for pity's sake, look so coldly, or turn from me."
"I do not look coldly; but spare me the pain of hearing this avowal," she replied, while trembling.
"Spare you the pain—oh, Madeline! my love for you——"
"Is futile," she replied, with her eyes full of tears.