and concluded
his day's journey. He put up at the same little inn he had visited three
years ago, and watched his opportunity of seeing Lady Flora alone. More
fortunate in that respect than he had been before, such opportunity the
very next day presented to him.

CHAPTER LXVII.

Duke.--Sir Valentine! Thur.--Yonder is Silvia, and Silvia's mine.
Val.--Thurio, give back.--The Two Gentlemen of Verona.

"I think, Mamma," said Lady Flora to her mother, "that as the morning is
so beautiful, I will go into the pavilion to finish my drawing."

"But Lord Ulswater will be here in an hour, or perhaps less: may I tell
him where you are, and suffer him to join you?"

"If you will accompany him," answered Lady Flora, coldly, as she took up
her portefeuille and withdrew.

Now the pavilion was a small summer-house of stone, situated in the
most retired part of the grounds belonging to Westborough Park. It was
a favourite retreat with Lady Flora, even in the winter months, for
warm carpeting, a sheltered site, and a fireplace constructed more for
comfort than economy made it scarcely less adapted to that season than
to the more genial suns of summer.

The morning was so bright and mild that Lady Flora left open the door
as she entered; she seated herself at the table, and, unmindful of her
pretended employment, suffered the portefeuille to remain unopened.
Leaning her cheek upon her hand, she gazed vacantly on the ground, and
scarcely felt the tears which gathered slowly to her eyes, but, falling
not, remained within the fair lids, chill and motionless, as if the
thought which drew them there was born of a sorrow less agitated than
fixed and silent.

The shadow of a man darkened the threshold, and there paused.

Slowly did Flora raise her eyes, and the next moment Clarence Linden was
by her side and at her feet.

"Flora," said he, in a tone trembling with its own emotions, "Flora,
have years indeed separated us forever, or dare I hope that we have
misconstrued each other's hearts, and that at this moment they yearn to
be united with more than the fondness and fidelity of old? Speak to me,
Flora, one word."

But she had sunk on the chair overpowered, surprised, and almost
insensible; and it was not for some moments that she could utter words
rather wrung from than dictated by her thoughts.

"Cruel and insulting, for what have you come? is it at such a time that
you taunt me with the remembrance of my past folly, o