hey thought they could listen to him for ever.
While thus engaged, he contrived ever and anon to steal a glance at
Amabel, and on these occasions, his eyes were quite as eloquent and
intelligible as his tongue.

Among other topics interesting to the grocer, the persecution to which
his daughter had been recently subjected was brought forward. Mr.
Bloundel could not reprobate the earl's conduct more strongly than his
guest did; and he assailed himself with such virulence that, in spite of
her uneasiness, Amabel could not repress a smile. In short, he so
accommodated himself to the grocer's opinion, and so won upon his
regard, that the latter offered him an asylum in his house during the
continuance of the pestilence. This was eagerly accepted, and the earl,
hazarding a look at Amabel at the moment, perceived her change colour
and become greatly agitated. Mrs. Bloundel also noticed her confusion,
but attributing it to any other than the right cause, begged her, in a
low tone, to control herself.

At length, the opportunity for which the earl had been secretly sighing
occurred. Mr. Bloundel called his wife out of the room for a moment, and
as their eldest son, Stephen, was in the shop, and the two other
children upstairs, Amabel was left alone with her lover. The door was no
sooner closed than he sprang towards her and threw himself at her feet.

"Shall I avail myself of your father's offer, sweetheart?" he cried.
"Shall I remain here with you--the happiest of prisoners--or will you
once more accompany me? This time, our marriage shall not be
interrupted."

"Perhaps not, my lord," she replied, gravely; "but it will be a mock
ceremonial, like the last. Do not attempt to deceive me. I am fully
aware of your intentions, and after the awful fate of the wretched
instrument of your purposed criminality, you will not readily get
another person to tempt in like manner the vengeance of Heaven. I have
had a severe struggle with myself. But at length I have triumphed over
my irresolution. I will not disguise from you that I love you
still,--and must ever, I fear, continue to love you. But I will not be
yours on the terms you propose. Neither will I leave this house with
you, nor suffer you to remain in it, in any other than your proper
character. On my father's return I will disclose all to him. If your
designs are honourable, I am sure he will no longer oppose my union with
you. If not, we part for ever."

"Be prudent, sweet g