© - - ■ ' - - - -- ■ ■ 
88 THE LADY PILGRIM. 
“ Arabella, my child, reflect well upon what you 
are doing! Remember that this hour seals your 
fate ! Do you refuse to ally yourself with one of 
the proudest houses in the realm ? Will you per¬ 
severe in preferring an untitled plebeian to the no¬ 
bleman who now sues for your hand ? ” 
“Father! — dearest, best of fathers !—I have 
reflected—I have decided. Prevarication would, 
on my part, be base wickedness. I am sorry to 
wound, but I cannot retract.” 
“ The fiat has gone forth, then, my noble duke,” 
said the earl, sorrowfully, removing his hand from 
the head of his child to the arm of the suitor at 
her feet. “ Rise ! the Lady Arabella is determined 
to ‘ make her own path, and fling her own shadow 
upon it! ’ ” 
“ We part not in anger! ” said the girl, as she 
extended her hand to the duke, while he was 
in the act of rising. “We will henceforth be 
friends ! ” 
As she spoke, one of the blush roses in her dress 
fell from her bosom to the floor. The duke 
caught it hastily, pressed it to his lips, and rushed 
from her presence without other reply. Those 
who knew his proud and noble nature said after¬ 
wards that “ he was crazed with unrequited love.” 
The year 1632 dawned over a band of hum¬ 
ble Pilgrims, who had fled from the old world, 
and fixed their rude habitations in the wilds of 
