seized you; what wicked, hurtful demon has suddenly converted this
bright ingenuous girl into a pale, sad, serious woman. Have courage
and trust me, and let me read as in those happier days."

Elise looked at his noble countenance with a deep and painful emotion,
and met his inquiring look with unabashed eye.

"Well, then," said she, "I will trust you, Bertram. I will tell you
what I have confided to no human ear. Know, then, that my heart also
has felt the pains which affect yours. Know that an ardent, hopeless
love burnt my soul."

"A hopeless love?" asked Bertram.

"Yes, hopeless," said she, firmly; "for never can I hope for my
father's blessing on this love, and never, without it, will I leave my
father's house to follow the man I love."

"The man you love!" cried Bertram, painfully. "Does he also then love
you, and does he know that you love him?"

She looked at him with astonishment. "Can one then love without being
beloved?" asked she, with the unconscious pride of a young girl.

"You are right," said Bertram; "I was a fool to ask this question of
you. But why do you doubt your father's consent? Why do you not go
confidingly to him and confess your love? But how? Is this love such
that it dare not face the light, and must conceal itself from the eyes
of your father?"