"Reputation!" cried Florence, her pride suddenly stung with the venom that lay within those honied words. "Not reputation, Jameson; I do not risk that; I could not--it would be death!" "And yet you are here, alone with me, beloved, in this old house." "But I am here to become your wife--only to become your wife. I risk my father's displeasure--I know that--I am disobedient, wicked, cruel to him, but his good name--my own good name--no, no, nothing that I have done should endanger that." The proud girl was much agitated, and the dove-like fondness that had brooded in her eyes a moment before began to kindle up to an expression that the lover became earnest to change. "You take me up too seriously," he said, attempting to draw her toward him, but she resisted proudly. "I only spoke of _possible_ not probable risk, and that because the clergyman would be persuaded to come down here only on a promise that the marriage should be kept a secret till some means could be found of reconciling the old gentleman, or at any rate for a week or two." "And you gave the promise," said Florence, while her beautiful features settled into a grieved and dissatisfied expression. "You gave this promise?" "Why, Florence, what ails you? I had no choice. You had already left home, and he would listen to no other terms." "A week or two--our marriage kept secret so long," said Florence in a tone of dissatisfaction. "You did well to say I was risking much for you. My life had been little--but this--" "And is this too much? Do you begin to regret, Florence?" Nothing could have been more gentle, more replete with tenderness, ardent but full of reproach, than the tone in which these words were uttered. Florence lifted her eyes to his, tears came into them, and then she smiled brightly once more. "Oh! let us have done with this; I am nervous, agitated, unreasonable I suppose; of course you have done right," she said, "but at first the thoughts of this concealment terrified me." "Hark! I hear wheels. It must be the clergyman and Byrne," said Jameson, listening. "And is a stranger coming," inquired Florence, "any one but the clergyman? I was not prepared for that!" "But we must have a witness. He is my friend, and one that can be trusted. You need have no fear of Byrne." "They are here!" said Florence, who had been listening with checked breath, while her face waxed very pale. "It is the step of two persons on the gravel. Let me go--let me go for an instant, this is no dress for a bride," and she glanced hurriedly at her black silk dress, relieved only by a frill of lace and a knot or two of rose-colored ribbon. "What matters it, beautiful as you always are." "No, no, I cannot be married in black--I will not be married in black," she cried hurriedly, and with a forced effort to be gay; "wait ten minutes, I will but step to the chamber above and be with you again directly."