I shook my head.
"You are right—you are right," proceeded Sinclair, hastily. "You shall not speak. You shall not even tell me how divine a being Heaven has placed within my reach. You shall not be involved in the calamity which an irrevocable act may bring upon two whose crime it is to love too well."
"Rupert," I replied, "I am not disposed to desert you at so critical a period of our life. We are both young. You are enthusiastic; your good opinion of mankind has before now led you into error. Have you well pondered on this step? Can you rely on Elinor Travis."
"What do you mean?"
"Is she as brave as she is gentle—as faithful as she is fair?"
"I would answer for her with my life."
"Yes, or with twenty lives, if you had them, for the venture. Yet you have not known her long."
"Long enough to value and to love her. Does it require an age to discover truthfulness so palpable as hers?"
"I have done, Sinclair," said I. "God grant you may be happy!"
"You return to London, then?"