hink that this man
_can_ love, does love you."

"I know that he does!" said Florence with a sort of wild exultation.
"I know that he loves me."

"And would you, if I were to give my consent--could you become the
wife of Herbert Jameson?"

"Father, I could! I would!"

"Then on this point be the issue between us," said Mr. Hurst, with
calm and stern dignity. "Florence, I am about to send a note desiring
this man to come once more under my roof," and he rang a bell for
lights; "if within three hours I do not give you proof that he loves
you only for the wealth that I can give--that he is every way
despicable--I say that if within three hours I do not furnish this
proof, clear, glaring, indisputable, then will I frankly and at once
give my consent to your marriage."

"Father!" cried Florence, while a burst of wild and startling joy
broke over her face, "I will stand the issue! My life--my very soul
would I pledge on his integrity."

Mr. Hurst looked at her with mournful sternness while she was
speaking, and then proceeded to write a note which he instantly
dispatched.

While the servant was absent Mr. Hurst and his daughter remained
together, much agitated but silent and lost in thought. In the course
of half an hour the man returned with a reply to the note. Mr. Hurst
read it, and waiting till they were alone turned to his daughter and
pointed to a glass door which led from the room into a little
conservatory of plants.

"Go in yonder, from thence you can hear all that passes."

"Father, is it right--will it be honorable?" said Florence, hesitating
and weak with agitation.

"It is right--it is honorable! Go in!" His voice was stern, the
gesture with which he enforced it peremptory, and poor Florence
obeyed.

A curtain of pale green silk fell over the sash-door, and close behind
it stood a garden-chair, overhung by the blossoming tendrils of a
passion-flower. Florence sat down in the chair and her head drooped
fainting to one hand. There was something in the scent of the various
plants blossoming around that reminded her of that wedding-morning
when the air was literally burthened with like fragrance. She was
about to see her husband for the first time since that agitating day,
to see him thus, crouching as a spy among those delicate plants, her
heart beat heavily, she loathed herself for the seeming meanness that
had been forced upon her. Yet there was misgiving at her heart--a
vague, sickening apprehensio