She rose, pale and trembling--approached Maltravers and laid her hand gently on his arm.
"I will go away, when and where you wish--the sooner the better--to-morrow--yes, to-morrow; you are ashamed of poor Alice; and it has been very silly in me to be so happy." (She struggled with her emotion for a moment, and went on.) "You know Heaven can hear me, even when I am away from you, and when I know more I can pray better; and Heaven will bless you, sir, and make you happy, for I never can pray for anything else." With these words she turned away, and walked proudly towards the door.
But when she reached the threshold, she stopped and looked round, as if to take a last farewell.

All the associations and memories of that beloved spot rushed upon her--she gasped for breath,--tottered,--and fell to the ground insensible.
Maltravers was already by her side; he lifted her light weight in his arms; he uttered wild and impassioned exclamations--"Alice, beloved Alice--forgive me; we will never part!" He chafed her hands in his own, while her head lay on his bosom, and he kissed again and again those beautiful eyelids, till they opened slowly upon him, and the tender arms tightened round him involuntarily.
"Alice," he whispered--"Alice, dear Alice, I love thee." Alas, it was true: he loved--and forgot all but that love.

He was eighteen..