"I trust not."
"And you will ever love me?"
"Ever!" repeated the beautiful girl, drawing instinctively nearer to his breast.
At that moment, Ruez, returning from the Plato to procure some article which he had left behind, burst hastily into the room, and, blushing like a young girl at the scene that met his eye, he was about to retire hastily, when Lorenzo Bezan spoke to him, not the least disconcerted; he felt too secure in his position to realize any such feeling:
"Come hither, Ruez, we have just been speaking of you."
"Of me?" said the boy, rather doubtfully, as though he suspected they had been talking of matters quite foreign to him.
"Yes, of you, Ruez," continued his sister, striving to hide a tell-tale blush, as her eyes met her brother's. "I have been telling General Bezan what a dear, good brother you have been to me—how you have ever remembered all his kindnesses to me; while I have thought little of them, and have been far from grateful."
"Not at heart, sister," said the boy, quickly; "not always in your sleep, since you will sometimes talk in your day dreams!"
"Ah, Ruez, you turned traitor, and betray me? well, there can be little harm, perhaps, to have all known now."
"Now?" repeated Ruez. "Why do you use that word so decidedly?"