irl, I entreat of you," cried the earl imploringly.
"Your indiscretion will ruin all. There are a thousand reasons why your
father should not be consulted on the matter."

"There are none that weigh with me," she interrupted, decidedly. "I have
been bewildered--beside myself,--but, thank Heaven, I have recovered
before it is too late."

"You are beside yourself at this moment," cried Rochester, unable to
control his anger and mortification, "and will bitterly repent your
folly. Neither your supplications nor my rank will have any weight with
your father, prejudiced as he is against me. Fly with me, and I swear to
make you mine, without a moment's loss of time. Will not my plighted
word content you?"

"No, my lord, you have broken it already," returned Amabel. "My father
shall know the truth."

A dark shade passed over Rochester's countenance, and a singular and
most forbidding expression, which Amabel had once before noticed, took
possession of it. His love for her seemed changed to hate, and she
tremblingly averted her gaze. At this juncture, the door opened, and the
grocer and his wife entered the room. The former started, on seeing
Amabel and the supposed preacher in such close propinquity, and a
painful suspicion of the truth crossed his mind. He was not, however,
kept long in suspense. Throwing off his wig, and letting his own fair
ringlets fall over his shoulders, the earl tore open his cassock, and
disclosed his ordinary rich attire. At the same time, his face underwent
an equally striking change,--each feature resuming its original
expression; and the grocer, though he witnessed the whole
transformation, could scarcely believe that the same individual he had
recently beheld stood before him.

"You now know who I am, Mr. Bloundel, and what brought me hither," said
Rochester, with a haughty salutation.

"I do, my lord," replied the grocer, "and I give you full credit for
your daring and ingenuity. After the manner in which I have been imposed
upon myself, I can make allowance for others." He then turned to Amabel,
and said, in a severe tone, "You are no longer my daughter."

"Father!" she cried, rushing towards him and throwing herself at his
feet, "do not cast me off for ever. I am not now to blame. It is owing
to my determination to disclose all to you that the earl has thus
revealed himself. I might have deceived you further--might have fled
with him."

"Forgive her! oh, forgive her!" cried Mrs. Bloun