"No; wherever my
fortune calls me--whatever she inflicts upon me--it is your friend--your
sincere friend, who acts or suffers. But there is a fate on me, and I
must go, or I shall add the ruin of others to my own."
"Yet do not go from us, Master," said Lucy; and she laid her hand,
in all simplicity and kindness, upon the skirt of his cloak, as if to
detain him. "You shall not part from us. My father is powerful, he has
friends that are more so than himself; do not go till you see what his
gratitude will do for you. Believe me, he is already labouring in your
behalf with the council."
"It may be so," said the Master, proudly; "yet it is not to your father,
Miss Ashton, but to my own exertions, that I ought to owe success in the
career on which I am about to enter. My preparations are already made--a
sword and a cloak, and a bold heart and a determined hand."
Lucy covered her face her hands, and the tears, in spite of her, forced
their way between her fingers.
"Forgive me," said Ravenswood, taking her right hand, which, after
slight resistance, she yielded to him, still continuing to shade her
face with the left--"I am too rude--too rough--too intractable to deal
with any being so soft and gentle as you are.
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