glow of glad excitement on her face—I thought my hour of victory was come—but instantly, a painful recollection seemed to flash upon her; a cloud of anguish darkened her brow, a marble paleness blanched her cheek and lip; there seemed a moment of inward conflict,—and with a sudden effort, she withdrew her hand, and retreated a step or two back.
"Now Mr. Markham," said she, with a kind of desperate calmness, "I must tell you plainly, that I cannot do with this. I like your company, because I am alone here, and your conversation pleases me more than that of any other person; but if you cannot be content to regard me as a friend—a plain, cold, motherly, or sisterly friend, I must beg you to leave me now, and let me alone hereafter—in fact, we must be strangers for the future."
"I will, then—be your friend,—or brother, or anything you wish, if you will only let me continue to see you; but tell me why I cannot be anything more?"
