Could the whole of her past existence have been dreamed away ?--had she indeed no claim to the place she loved best on earth--was she dependant on the will of others for all the gay and joyous emotions that a few moments before filled her breast?
She thought again of Arthur, of his handsome appearance, his good and generous heart, his talents, and his unchanging love to her--of Walter, and of all with which he had had to contend in the springtime of his life.

Of his faults, his sin, and his banishment; of his love to her, too, and the delusion under which she had labored, of her returning it.

Arthur would, ere long, know it all, and though he might forgive, her proud spirit rebelled at the idea that he would also blame.
She looked at her uncle, whose happy face was fixed on the home of his youth and his old age--a sense of his protecting care and affection came over her.

What might the short summer bring?
His displeasure, too--then there would be no more for her, but to leave Exeter with all its happiness.
Poor child! for, at nearly nineteen, Alice was only a child.

The possibility overpowered her, she leant against her uncle's bosom, and wept suddenly and violently.
"Alice, what is the matter ?" said her mother.