arlotte seized his hand, and kissed it with
an hysterical fervor of admiration, which completely deprived him of his
presence of mind.

"Why shouldn't I kiss the hand of a hero?" she cried, with tears of
enthusiasm sparkling in her eyes. "Nobody but a hero would have given
that man his life; nobody but a hero would have pardoned him, while the
blood was streaming from the wound that he had inflicted. I respect you,
I admire you. Oh, don't think me bold! I can't control myself when I
hear of anything noble and good. You will understand me better when we
get to be old friends--won't you?"

She spoke in low sweet tones of entreaty. Percy's arm stole softly round
her.

"Are we never to be nearer and dearer to each other than old friends?"
he asked in a whisper. "I am not a hero--your goodness overrates me,
dear Miss Charlotte. My one ambition is to be the happy man who is
worthy enough to win _you_. At your own time! I wouldn't distress you,
I wouldn't confuse you, I wouldn't for the whole world take advantage of
the compliment which your sympathy has paid to me. If it offends you, I
won't even ask if I may hope."

She sighed as he said the last words; trembled a little, and silently
looked at him.

Percy read his answer in her eyes. Without meaning it on either side
their heads drew nearer together; their cheeks, then their lips,
touched. She started back from him, and rose to leave the conservatory.
At the same moment, the sound of slowly-approaching footsteps became
audible on the gravel walk of the garden. Charlotte hurried to the door.

"My father!" she exclaimed, turning to Percy. "Come, and be introduced
to him."

Percy followed her into the garden.

CHAPTER VII.

POLITICS.

JUDGING by appearances, Mr. Bowmore looked like a man prematurely wasted
and worn by the cares of a troubled life. His eyes presented the one
feature in which his daughter resembled him. In shape and color
they were exactly reproduced in Charlotte; the difference was in the
expression. The father's look was habitually restless, eager, and
suspicious. Not a trace was to be seen in it of the truthfulness and
gentleness which made the charm of the daughter's expression. A man
whose bitter experience of the world had soured his temper and shaken
his faith in his fellow-creatures--such was Mr. Bowmore as he presented
himself on the surface. He received Percy politely--but with a
preoccupied air. Every now and then, his restless eyes wa