words; and Lucy, even through the dark, perceived that her strange companion was powerfully excited; she waited for him to continue, but observing that he walked on in silence, she said, though with a trembling voice, "Indeed, Mr. Clifford, I fear that it is very, very improper in me to meet you thus; nothing but the strong expressions in your letter—and—and—in short, my fear that you meditated some desperate design, at which I could not guess, caused me to yield to your wish for an interview." She paused, and Clifford still preserving silence, she added, with some little coldness in her tone, "If you have really aught to say to me, you must allow me to request that you speak it quickly. This interview, you must be sensible, ought to end almost as soon as it begins."
"Hear me then!" said Clifford, mastering his embarrassment, and speaking in a firm and clear voice—"Is that true, which I have but just heard,—is it true, that I have been spoken of in your presence in terms of insult and affront?"
It was now for Lucy to feel embarrassed; fear-
