Is there no chord in your heart that vibrates in harmony with mine?
Are there no memories associated with the oak trees of the wood, the mossy stone at the fountain, the sacred rose of the grave, propitious to my early and ever-growing love ?" He spoke with a depth of feeling of which I had never thought him possessed.

Sincerity and truth dignified every look and tone.

Yes! there were undying memories, now wakened in all their strength, of the youthful champion of my injured rights, the sympathizing companion of my darkest hours; the friend, who stood by me when other friends were unknown.

There was many a responsive chord that thrilled at his voice, and there was another note, a sweet triumphant note never struck before.
The new-born consciousness of woman's power, the joy of being beloved, the regal sense of newly acquired dominion swelled in my bosom and flashed from my eye.

But _the master-chord was silent_.