She was the more confirmed in
the idea from the eagerness with which he had grasped at Jocelyn's rash
promise, and she determined to put the young man upon his guard.
If, in order to satisfy the reader's curiosity, we are obliged to
examine the state of Aveline's heart, in reference to Jocelyn, we must
state candidly that no such ardent flame was kindled within it as burnt
in the breast of the young man. That such a flame might arise was very
possible, nay even probable, seeing that the sparks of love were there;
and material for combustion was by no means wanting. All that was
required was, that those sparks should be gently fanned--not heedlessly
extinguished.
Little was said by the two young persons, as they slowly paced the
terrace. Both felt embarrassed: Jocelyn longing to give utterance to his
feelings, but restrained by timidity--Aveline trembling lest more might
be said than she ought to hear, or if obliged to hear, than she could
rightly answer. Thus they walked on in silence. But it was a silence
more eloquent than words, since each comprehended what the other felt.
How much they would have said was proclaimed by the impossibility they
found of saying anything!
At length, Jocelyn stopped, and plucking a flower, observed, as he
proffered it for her acceptance, "My first offering to you was rejected.
May this be more fortunate."
"Make me a promise, and I will accept it," she replied.
"Willingly,", cried Jocelyn, venturing to take her hand, and gazing at
her tenderly.
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