g of Barstone Park, the sun was
shining brightly, wrapping dale and down in a mantle of golden light.
Rabbits sprung up under my feet as I made my way through the fern and
heather; and pheasants, their varied plumage glittering in the
sunlight, ran along my path, seeking to hide their long necks under
some sheltering furze brake, or rose heavily on the wing, scared at the
unwonted intrusion. At any other time the fair scene ~396~~ around me
would have sufficed to make me light-hearted and happy, but in the state
of suspense and mental torture in which I then was, the brightness of
nature seemed only to contrast the more vividly with the darkness of
soul within. And yet I could not believe her false. Oh, no! I should see
her, and all would be explained; and as this thought came across me, I
bounded eagerly forward, and, anxious to accelerate the meeting, chafed
at each trifling obstacle that opposed itself to my progress. Alas! one
short hour from that time, I should have been glad had there been a lion
in my path, so that I had failed to reach the fatal spot.

With my mind fixed on the one object of meeting Clara, I forgot the old
man's recommendation to keep out of sight; and flinging myself at full
length on the bench, I rested my head upon my hand, and fell into a
reverie, distorting facts and devising impossible contingencies to
establish Clara's innocence. From this train of thought I was aroused
by a muffled sound as of footsteps upon turf, and in another moment,
the following words, breathed in silvery accents, which caused my every
pulse to throb with suppressed emotion, reached my ear:--

"It is indeed an engagement of which I now heartily repent, and from
which I would willingly free myself; but--"

"But," replied a man's voice, in the cold sneering tone of which,
though now softened by an expression of courtesy, I had almost said
of tenderness, I instantly recognised that of Stephen Wilford,--"but,
having at one time encouraged the poor young man, your woman's heart
will not allow you to say 'No' with sufficient firmness to show that he
has nothing further to hope."

"Indeed it is not so," replied the former speaker, who, as the reader
has doubtless concluded, was none other than Clara Saville; "you
mistake me, Mr. Fleming; if a word could prove to him that his suit was
hopeless, that word should soon be spoken."

"It is not needed!" exclaimed I, springing to my feet, and suddenly
confronting them; "that