f woe.

"Oh; Flora, my own, my beautiful," he added, in those tones which come
so direct from the heart, and which are so different from any assumption
of tenderness. "Speak to me, dear, dear Flora--speak to me if it be but
a word."

"Charles," was all she could say, and then she burst into a flood of
tears, and leant so heavily upon his arm, that it was evident but for
that support she must have fallen.

Charles Holland welcomed those, although, they grieved him so much that
he could have accompanied them with his own, but then he knew that she
would be soon now more composed, and that they would relieve the heart
whose sorrows called them into existence.

He forbore to speak to her until he found this sudden gush of feeling
was subsiding into sobs, and then in low, soft accents, he again
endeavoured to breathe comfort to her afflicted and terrified spirit.

"My Flora," he said, "remember that there are warm hearts that love you.
Remember that neither time nor circumstance can change such endearing
affection as mine. Ah, Flora, what evil is there in the whole world that
love may not conquer, and in the height of its noble feelings laugh to
scorn."

"Oh, hush, hush, Charles, hush."

"Wherefore, Flora, would you still the voice of pure affection? I love
you surely, as few have ever loved. Ah, why would you forbid me to give
such utterance as I may to those feelings which fill up my whole heart?"

"No--no--no."

"Flora, Flora, wherefore do you say no?"

"Do not, Charles, now speak to me of affection or love. Do not tell me
you love me now."

"Not tell you I love you! Ah, Flora, if my tongue, with its poor
eloquence to give utterance to such a sentiment, were to do its office,
each feature of my face would tell the tale. Each action would show to
all the world how much I loved you."

"I must not now hear this. Great God of Heaven give me strength to carry
out the purpose of my soul."

"What purpose is it, Flora, that you have to pray thus fervently for
strength to execute? Oh, if it savour aught of treason against love's
majesty, forget it. Love is a gift from Heaven. The greatest and the
most glorious gift it ever bestowed upon its creatures. Heaven will not
aid you in repudiating that which is the one grand redeeming feature
that rescues human nature from a world of reproach."

Flora wrung her hands despairingly as she said,--

"Charles, I know I cannot reason with you. I know I have not power of
lang