There was a dead silence. Emmeline, entirely satisfied as to her own perfect innocence, and horror-stricken by the latter part of the paragraph relating to the duel, was occupied in dwelling on the possibility of there being any foundation for the rumour; and her whole mind was so engrossed by that one thought, the safety of Fitzhenry, that she did not even think of exculpating herself from the charge. Indeed, she had totally forgotten the presence even of her parents, when Mr. Benson, striking his hand with violence on the table, in a voice of agony exclaimed— “Speak Emmeline, are you innocent? or am I for ever disgraced?” Emmeline startled by her father’s vehemence, looked wildly at him for an instant, as if not understanding his words. “I see, but too plainly, how it is. Don’t speak, don’t speak,” he continued quickly; and, covering his face with both his hands, he gave way to the violence of his feelings. Completely roused by the burst of passion in one so seldom moved to tears, Emmeline threw herself on her knees beside him, and, endeavouring to take hold of his hand, exclaimed, “Oh, my father, what can all this mean? is it possible you can suspect?—God knows how innocent I am.” Mr. Benson, wiping away his tears, looked at her for an instant in silence. “Repeat those blessed words again, child, for I must believe you.” “By the God of truth!” exclaimed Emmeline, as she clasped her hands with fervency and fixed her eyes steadfastly on Mr. Benson, “I am innocent of having, in thought, word, or deed, departed from the love and duty, I swore to my husband at the altar. Alas!” added she, as she hid her face in her father’s bosom, “I only love him too well, too entirely for my happiness.” These last words became indistinct, and choked by her tears. “Thank God, thank God!” repeated Mr. Benson, with a sort of hurried nervousness of manner, as he kissed his daughter’s forehead: “I could not have borne that; your dishonour I could not have borne, Emmy, it would soon have brought me to my grave. I believe you, Emmeline, on my honour I do; you never in your life deceived me; but what does that cursed story mean?” pointing to the paragraph to which his mind seemed again to have returned with doubt and anxiety. “I will tell you all, as far as——” and Emmeline stopped short, for how could she explain what had passed, without drawing on a necessary confession of her whole sad story. “No more concealments, Emmy, I will and must know all,” said Mr. Benson sternly. Emmeline looked at her father as if supplicating for pity. “Spare her now Mr. Benson,” said her mother as she folded her in her arms: “we have it from her own true lips, that she is blameless, and let what will have happened, we can bear any thing now.” “Bless you, bless you for believing me,” said Emmeline, as she threw her arms round her mother’s neck in gratitude: “but,” added she, with a melancholy and reproachful look, “my father does not, he still doubts me.”