Some little time had elapsed in a few commonplace remarks, when the gentleman drew his chair close to Jessy’s side. “Miss Ellett,” said he, “I have come this evening emboldened to pour into your ear the story of a long and devoted attachment.”
“Mr. Stanley,” interrupted the lady, blushing deeply, while the small hand which lay upon the edge of the table might have been seen slightly to tremble, “I cannot allow you to place yourself at the disadvantage of uttering any thing you might regret when you become acquainted with what I must have to reply in regard to any declaration of this kind.”
“Do not, I beseech you, Miss Ellet, say aught to dash my dearest earthly hopes. I had flattered myself—”
“I know what you would say,” rejoined the young lady, again interrupting him. “You mean that you had hoped—” and she hesitated an instant, “that you were not altogether indifferent to me. But what avails it whether or no this be the case, when I have that to reveal to you which may make you instantly withdraw your proffered affection?”
“No revelation that you could make would have the power to effect a change in the feelings of one who has known you so well.”
“Nay, wait until you hear what I have to tell. Know, then, that I am not what I appear.”
“Your language is enigmatical,” said her lover, looking at her bewildered; “but if it were possible for any human being to surpass in internal graces the loveliest outside, in that way I can believe that there is truth in your words.”
“I thank you for the compliment,” said Jessy, smiling in acknowledgment. “But it is not in regard to my personal graces, either external or internal—for I have too much vanity, I assure you, to suppose that there is aught that can be said in disparagement of either—but in regard to my outward position I speak. I pass for the niece of Governor H., and the sister of Lucy Elmore. Now I am confident that I am neither.”
“What is it you say?” said her lover, looking at her in astonishment.
“Mr. Stanley,” continued she, “do you recollect the melancholy-looking lady who was present at Lucy’s wedding?”
“I do,” said he, “and can tell you more than you have probably ever known. She was the mysterious Lady of the Rock, and the noble wife of the exiled regicide. I shall never forget her touching beauty, nor the heroic fortitude with which she hastened the flight of her husband and father on the day when their hiding-place in the cave was discovered. But what were you going to say of her?”