is not for me to say.”
“You are wrong; you must advise me what to do.”
“Do you seriously ask my advice, Valentine?”
“Certainly, dear Maximilian, for if it is good, I will follow it; you know my devotion to you.”
“Valentine,” said Morrel pushing aside a loose plank, “give me your hand in token of forgiveness of my anger; my senses are confused, and during the last hour the most extravagant thoughts have passed through my brain. Oh, if you refuse my advice—”
“What do you advise?” said Valentine, raising her eyes to heaven and sighing.
“I am free,” replied Maximilian, “and rich enough to support you. I swear to make you my lawful wife before my lips even shall have approached your forehead.”
“You make