theatrical air; "and I will ask no other music."
Agitated, blushing, and in a voice scarcely audible at first, she began her confession. Gradually the strong emotion prevailed over the weaker one, and timidity was merged in feelings that grew more powerful as she proceeded.
"I have now told you all; forgive and pity me. I ask of yourself, how could I do otherwise than decline an engagement, when I have no heart to bestow?" The tears filled her dark blue eyes; never had she felt the shame and wretchedness of her position so forcibly before. "May I ask of you," continued she, in faltering tones, "to tell my grandmother, that our engagement is broken off?"
"Well, certainly," exclaimed Mr. Trevanion, "this is the most charming piece of bergerie it has ever been my good fortune to witness."
Ethel looked at him in blank amazement, while he went on.
