"I am neither wayward nor capricious; but I would be willingly spared the pain of an interview with one whom I thought I loved." "Thought you loved!" echoed Fawkes, in increased astonishment.
"Ay, _thought_," repeated Viviana, "for I have since examined my heart, and find he has no place in it." "You might be happy with him, Viviana," rejoined Fawkes, reproachfully.
"I _might_ have been," she replied, "had circumstances favoured our union.

But I should not be so now.

Recent events have wrought an entire change in my feelings.

Were I to abandon my resolution of retiring to a cloister,--were I to return to the world,--and were such an event possible as that Humphrey Chetham should conform to the faith of Rome,--still, I would not--could not wed him." "I grieve to hear it," replied Fawkes.
"Would _you_ have me wed him ?" she cried, in a slightly mortified tone.
"In good sooth would I," replied Fawkes; "and I repeat my firm conviction you would be happier with him than with one more highly born, and of less real worth." Viviana made no reply, and her head declined upon her bosom.
"You will see him," pursued Fawkes, taking her hand, "if only to tell him what you have just told me." "Since you desire it, I will," she replied, fixing a look of melancholy tenderness upon him; "but it will cost me a bitter pang." "I would not tax you with it, if I did not think it needful," returned Fawkes.

"And now, farewell." "Farewell,--it may be, for ever," replied Viviana, sadly.
"The boat is ready, and the tide ebbing," cried Catesby, impatiently, at the door.