voice broken by emotion.

"That is more than I would," thought Maurice Wyvil. "A woman who has
once deceived those she holds dear, will not fail to do so a second
time. The fairest promises are forgotten when the danger is past."

"Mr. Wyvil, if you have a particle of regard for me, you will instantly
leave the house," said Amabel, turning to him.

"If had my own way, he should leave it through the window," said Mrs.
Bloundel; "and if he tarries a minute longer, I will give the alarm."

"You hear this, sir," cried Amabel:--"go, I entreat you."

"I yield to circumstance, Amabel," replied Wyvil; "but think not I
resign you. Come what will, and however I may be foiled, I will not
desist till I make you mine."

"I tremble to hear him," cried Mrs. Bloundel, "and could not have
believed such depravity existed. Quit the house, sir, directly, or I
will have you turned out of it."

"Do not remain another moment," implored Amabel. "Do not, do not!"

"Since I have no other way of proving my love, I must perforce obey,"
returned Wyvil, trying to snatch her hand and press it to his lips; but
she withdrew it, and clung more closely to her mother. "We part," he
added, significantly, "only for a time."

Quitting the room, he was about to descend the stairs, when Mrs.
Bloundel, who had followed to see him safely off the premises, hearing a
noise below, occasioned by the return of Leonard with the doctor,
cautioned him to wait. A further delay was caused by Blaize, who,
stationing himself at the foot of the stairs, with a light in his hand,
appeared unwilling to move. Apprehensive of a discovery, Mrs. Bloundel
then directed the gallant to the back staircase, and he had got about
halfway down, when he was surprised by Leonard Holt, as before related.

At the very moment that Wyvil was overtaken on the landing by the
apprentice, Amabel appeared at the door of her chamber with a light. The
different emotions of each party at this unexpected rencontre may be
imagined. Leonard Holt, with a breast boiling with jealous rage,
prepared to attack his rival. He had no weapon about him, having left
his cudgel in the shop, but he doubled his fists, and, nerved by
passion, felt he had the force of a Hercules in his arm. Wyvil, in his
turn, kept his hand upon his sword, and glanced at his mistress, as if
seeking instructions how to act. At length, Mrs. Bloundel, who formed
one of the group, spoke.

"Leonard Holt," she said, "show this perso