Good-by--God bless you, Ernest."
She held out her arms, and was clasped in a long, last embrace.
Breaking away, she was soon lost to view among the deep shadows of the
garden.
"And this is the end! This is woman's love! Mere filial duty, I should
say. Well, well, a final adieu to all thought of love. In future I
devote myself to ambition, wedded only to my profession, in hope that
in this I shall not meet with another such reward."
Constance Lyle was the only child of wealthy parents. Ever since her
infancy her father had cherished the hope of uniting her with his
ward, Gerald Moreton, the son of a very dear friend. Gerald was left
an orphan before he had reached his tenth year. When Mr. Moreton, on
his deathbed, placed his son under the care of his old friend, he
intimated his desire that some time in the future, the little
Constance (scarcely then four years old) should bear the name of
Moreton. To this Mr. Lyle readily agreed. The little Gerald was truly
a noble boy, and he was much attached to him, years before having lost
a son of the same age; this child of his dearest friend had, in some
degree, served to fill the aching void. Again, Gerald's prospects were
very brilliant; but, to do Mr.
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