well-nigh merged in
the realization of the danger which menaces her hostess' property.

"Monsieur D'Arblet, I must implore you to calm yourself," she says,
desperately.

"And how, mademoiselle, I ask you, am I to be calm when you speak of
shattering the hopes of my life?" cries the vicomte, who is dancing about
frantically backwards and forwards, in a clear space of three square
yards, between the different pieces of furniture by which he is
surrounded, all equally fragile, and equally loaded with destructible
objects.

"_Pray_ be careful, Monsieur D'Arblet, your sleeve nearly caught then in
the handle of that Chelsea basket," cries Vera, in anguish.

"And what to me are Chelsea baskets, or china, or trash of that kind,
when you, cruel one, are determined to scorn me?"

"Oh, if you would only come outside and have it out on the staircase,"
murmurs Vera, piteously.

"No, I will never leave this room, never, mademoiselle, until you give
me hope; never will I cease to importune you until your heart relents
towards the _miserable_ who adores you!"

Here Monsieur D'Arblet made an attempt to get at his charmer by coming
round the end of the velvet table.

Vera felt distracted. To allow him to execute his maneuver was to run
the chance of being clasped in his arms; to struggle to get free was the
almost certainty of upsetting the table.

She cast a despairing glance across the room at the bell-handle, which
was utterly beyond her reach. There was no hope in that direction.
Apparently, moral persuasion was her only chance.

"Monsieur D'Arblet, I _forbid_ you to advance a step nearer to me!"

He fell back with a profound sigh.

"Mademoiselle, I love you to distraction. I am unable to disobey your
commands."

"Very well, then, listen to me. I cannot understand this violent outburst
of emotion. You have done me the honour to propose to marry me, and I
have, with many thanks for your most flattering distinction, declined
your offer. Surely, between a lady and a gentleman, there can be nothing
further to say; it is not incumbent upon you to persecute me in this
fashion."

"Miss Nevill, you have treated me with a terrible cruelty. You have
encouraged my ardent passion for you until you did lift me up to Heaven."
Here Monsieur D'Arblet stretched up both his arms with a suddenness which
endangered the branches of the tall Dresden candelabra on the high
mantelpiece behind him. "After which you do reject me and cast me