Delmour impetuously; "could you then doubt me, Gertrude ?" "Had I not cause ?-Why was I left at such a time, when a single word from you" "Would have consigned you for ever to poverty and obscurity-Is it not so ? You would have been mine, had I been base and selfish enough to have plunged you in ruin-to have sacrificed your happiness to my own." "Ah! by what a degrading standard did you measure my happiness, if you thought pomp and wealth could ever compensate for broken vows— for a deceived heart !-you would have renounced me!" "No, by Heavens, I would not-I will not— but, yes-you are right, I would-I will renounce you, Gertrude, if, by doing so, I can insure your happiness; it matters not though mine be a wreck." Lady Rossville spoke not-her heart heaved with emotion-and Colonel Delmour, leaning against the chimney-piece, contemplated her for some moments without speaking: at length, taking her passive hand, he seated himself on the sofa by her, then, in a voice calmed into tenderness, he said "Gertrude, there was a time when, had an angel spoke, I would not have believed that aught on earth could ever have induced me to resign this hand-and even now worlds should not wrest it from me-but, fickle-faithless as you are, why should I seek to retain it ?" "Release me, Colonel Delmour," cried the Countess, in a voice choking with emotion-" I have not deserved-I will not listen to such language," and she struggled to withdraw her hand. "Yet hear me one moment-my fate is on your lips-tell me that our vows are cancelled, and, in doing so, seal my doom." But Gertrude spoke not. "Gertrude-in spite of all-dearest-most beloved-I cannot resign you, but with my dying breath-why do you impose upon me so cruel a sacrifice ?" He unclasped the hand in which he had held hers locked-"Why suffer your hand. to remain for an instant in mine ?-Gertrude, you are free!" Lady Rossville slowly withdrew it, then raising her head, she shook off the tears which gemmed her eyes, and cast on him a look which spoke all the confiding tenderness of her soul,—then, replacing her hand within his, she turned away her head, to hide the blush that mantled her cheek. CHAPTER XXXII. O Jove! why hast thou given us certain proof LYNDSAY passed the intervening time in a state of feverish agitation very foreign to his natural equanimity of mind. That he loved Gertrude he could no longer conceal from himself; but his love was not of that violent yet contracted nature, which seeks to engross and appropriate the affections exclusively to itself. He had proposed a nobler aim—a purer gratification; as his love was without idolatry, so was it free from selfishness. He had not sought to undermine her affectionshe had aimed at elevating and ennobling them by extending their sphere beyond the narrow, perishable limits of human attachment; and he had hoped that a mind so pure, so lofty, so generous as hers, might yet become enamoured of virtue-might yet be saved from uniting itself with a nature unworthy of its love. And now was the test; on this interview her fate seemed suspended. Her emotion at sight of Colonel Delmour had, indeed, evinced the power he still retained over her, but that power might be urged too far. Though Gertrude was soft and feminine in her feelings, yet her spirit was high, and ever ready to rise against violence and injustice; and thus the tie, which a tenderer hand could not have unloosed, might, by his own impetuosity, be broken. Such were the hopes and fears that alternately rushed over Lyndsay's heart, as he waited, in an agony of impatience, the result of the conference, his eyes fixed immovably upon the door which led to the adjoining apartment. Their usually soft benign expression had given way to dark and troubled melancholy, and Lady Betty's questions fell unheeded on his ear. At length, the door opened, and the first glance sufficed to show Lyndsay that his doom and hers, were sealed. Gertrude's eyes were still moist with tears, 'tis true-but there was a smile on |