e apprentice with sullen and revengeful looks.
Patience, too, was equally angry, and her indignation was evinced in a
manner so droll, that at another season it would have drawn a smile from
Leonard.

Supper over, Amabel left the room. Leonard followed her, and overtook
her on the landing of the stairs.

"Amabel," he said, "I have received certain intelligence that the Earl
of Rochester will make another attempt to enter the house, and carry you
off to-night."

"Oh! when will he cease from persecuting me?" she cried.

"When you cease to encourage him," replied the apprentice, bitterly.

"I do _not_ encourage him, Leonard," she rejoined, "and to prove that I
do not, I will act in any way you think proper tonight."

"If I could trust you," said Leonard, you might be of the greatest
service in convincing the earl that his efforts are fruitless."

"You _may_ trust me," she rejoined.

"Well, then," returned Leonard, "when the family have retired to rest,
come downstairs, and I will tell you what to do."

Hastily promising compliance, Amabel disappeared; and Leonard ran down
the stairs, at the foot of which he encountered Mrs. Bloundel.

"What is the matter?" she asked.

"Nothing--nothing," replied the apprentice, evasively.

"That-will not serve my turn," she rejoined. "Something, I am certain,
troubles you, though you do not choose to confess it. Heaven grant your
anxiety is not occasioned by aught relating to that wicked Earl of
Rochester! I cannot sleep in my bed for thinking of him. I noticed that
you followed Amabel out of the room. I hope you do not suspect
anything."

"Do not question me further, madam, I entreat," returned the apprentice.
"Whatever I may suspect, I have taken all needful precautions. Rest
easy, and sleep soundly, if you can. All will go well."

"I shall never rest easy, Leonard," rejoined Mrs. Bloundel, "till you
are wedded to my daughter. Then, indeed, I shall feel happy. My poor
child, I am sure, is fully aware how indiscreet her conduct has been;
and when this noble libertine desists from annoying her--or rather, when
he is effectually shut out--we may hope for a return of her regard for
you."

"It is a vain hope, madam," replied Leonard; "there will be no such
return. I neither expect it nor desire it."

"Have you ceased to love her?" asked Mrs. Bloundel, in surprise.

"Ceased to love her!" echoed Leonard, fiercely. "Would I had done
so!--would I _could_ do so! I love her too