guest, the queen, rather, of my house! Ah! could the bloom of youth return with its feelings! Time is never so cruel as when, while stealing from us the power to please, he leaves us in full vigour the unhappy privilege to be charmed!"
Mauleverer expected at least a blushing contradiction to the implied application of a sentiment so affectingly expressed; he was disappointed. Lucy, less alive than usual to the sentimental, or its reverse, scarcely perceived his meaning, and answered simply, "That it was very true." "This comes of being, like my friend Burke, too refined for one's audience," thought Mauleverer, wincing a little from the unexpected reply. "And yet!" he resumed, "I would not forego my power to admire, futile—nay, painful as it is. Even now while I gaze on you, my heart tells me that the pleasure I enjoy, it is at your command, at once, and for ever, to blight into misery; but while it tells me, I gaze on!"
Lucy raised her eyes, and something of her natural archness played in their expression.
