roke down, and
the violence of her sobs stopped her utterance.

Bold, for the fifth or sixth time, declared that neither he nor any of
his friends imputed any blame personally to Mr Harding.

"Then why should he be persecuted?" ejaculated Eleanor through her
tears, forgetting in her eagerness that her intention had been to
humble herself as a suppliant before John Bold;--"why should he be
singled out for scorn and disgrace? why should he be made so wretched?
Oh! Mr Bold,"--and she turned towards him as though the kneeling scene
were about to be commenced,--"oh! Mr Bold, why did you begin all this?
You, whom we all so--so--valued!"

To speak the truth, the reformer's punishment was certainly come upon
him, for his present plight was not enviable; he had nothing for it
but to excuse himself by platitudes about public duty, which it is
by no means worth while to repeat, and to reiterate his eulogy on Mr
Harding's character. His position was certainly a cruel one: had any
gentleman called upon him on behalf of Mr Harding he could of course
have declined to enter upon the subject; but how could he do so with a
beautiful girl, with the daughter of the man whom he had injured, with
his own love?

In the meantime Eleanor recollected herself, and again summoned up
her energies. "Mr Bold," said she, "I have come here to implore you
to abandon this proceeding." He stood up from his seat, and looked
beyond measure distressed. "To implore you to abandon it, to implore
you to spare my father, to spare either his life or his reason, for
one or the other will pay the forfeit if this goes on. I know how
much I am asking, and how little right I have to ask anything; but
I think you will listen to me as it is for my father. Oh, Mr Bold,
pray, pray do this for us;--pray do not drive to distraction a man who
has loved you so well."

She did not absolutely kneel to him, but she followed him as he moved
from his chair, and laid her soft hands imploringly upon his arm. Ah!
at any other time how exquisitely valuable would have been that touch!
but now he was distraught, dumbfounded, and unmanned. What could he
say to that sweet suppliant; how explain to her that the matter now
was probably beyond his control; how tell her that he could not quell
the storm which he had raised?

"Surely, surely, John, you cannot refuse her," said his sister.

"I would give her my soul," said he, "if it would serve her."

"Oh, Mr Bold," said Elea