The situation was becoming perilous, and Sir Carnaby might at any moment come upon them, like the ogre of a fairy tale, or the irate father of a melodrama. 'I must go, Clare,' said he, but yet he lingered. Again he was calling her by her name--her Christian name--as of old, in the dear past time, and how sweetly it sounded in her ear! 'Trevor,' said she, pressing a hand on her heart as if to soothe its throbbing, while she leant on a table with the other, 'stay yet a moment.' Clare was with him again; he was conscious of nothing more; and the old love that had never passed out of his heart, or hers either, stronger now than it had ever been, made him linger in her presence, and made eye dwell on eye, tenderly, sadly, and passionately, till emotion got the better of all prudence, pride, and policy, and snatching the hand that was pressed upon her bosom, he besought her, in what terms, or with what words, he scarcely knew in the whirl of his thoughts, to be his wife at all risks and hazards. But Clare drew her hand away, and mournfully shook her head, and then, with an effort, spoke calmly-- 'You know, Trevor, how I loved poor mamma, and how she loved me?' 'I do, my own Clare.' 'Well, on her death-bed she made me give her two solemn promises.' 'And these were?' 'First, to be, so far as I could, a mother to Ida and Violet, and--and----' 'The second? Oh, Clare, keep me not in suspense!' 'Never to marry without the fullest consent of papa; and as he acted before, so will he act again, out of mere petulance and pride, perhaps, as he will never acknowledge himself in error. Oh, Trevor!' she added, pathetically, 'I would that we had never met, and almost wish that after being so cruelly parted we had never met more.' Trevor Chute was silent for a time, but a sense of irritation against her father gave him courage to hope. 'Clare, Sir Carnaby is a somewhat gay man,' said he, 'and he has hinted to Jerry Vane, to Colonel Rakes, and others, the chance----' 'Of what?' asked Clare, as her lips became pale. 'Pardon me--his marrying again.' 'With whom?' 'I heard no name.' 'Marrying again!' she exclaimed, with anger, as certain undefined suspicions occurred to her or came to memory. 'If Sir Carnaby does aught so absurd, I shall consider myself absolved from my promise to await his permission, and--and----' 'What, dearest Clare?' 'Become that which I should have been three long years ago,' she replied, with tenderness and vehemence. 'My wife, darling?' 'Your wife, Trevor.' 'Oh, Clare, God bless you for these words!' And as his arms went round her, all the man's brave heart went out to her, and tears started to his eyes as he kissed her with a passionate warmth in which he had never indulged in the past days of their early and unclouded love.