'Insulting girl,' cried Hargrave, 'you know too well, that, however received, still I must follow you. And, but for a series of the most tormenting accidents, I should have defeated the caution of your cold-hearted favourite. At the Perth post-office I discovered that your letters were addressed to the care of Mr Baynard; and the very hour that I reached London, I flew to make inquiries after you. I found that Mr Baynard's house was shut up, and that he was gone in bad health to Richmond. I followed him, and was told that he was too ill to be spoken with, that none of the servants knew your abode, as the footman who used to carry messages to you had been dismissed, and that your letters were now left at Mr Baynard's chambers in town. Thither I went, and learnt that, ever since your removal to Richmond, you had yourself sent for your letters, and that, of course, the clerks were entirely ignorant of your residence. Imagine my disappointment. The people, however, promised to make inquiries of your messenger, and to let me know where you might be found; and day after day did I haunt them, the sport of vain hope and bitter disappointment. No other letter ever came for you, nor did you ever inquire for any.' 'After Mr Baynard's removal to Richmond,' said Laura, 'I directed Mrs Douglas to address her letters to our lodgings.' 'Ah Laura, think what anxieties, what wretchedness I have suffered in my fruitless search! Yet you meet me only to drive me coldly from your presence. Once you said that you pardoned the folly--the madness that offended you; but too well I see that you deceived yourself or me--that no attachment, no devotion can purchase your forgiveness.' 'Indeed,' said Laura, melted by the proof which she had received of her lover's affection, yet fearful of forfeiting her caution, 'I am incapable of harbouring enmity against the worst of human beings, and--' 'Enmity!' interrupted Hargrave, 'Heavens, what a word!' 'I mean,' said Laura, faltering, 'that I am not insensible to the regard--' 'Madam, the coach is at the door,' said the shop-boy, again peeping slily into the room; and Laura, hastily bidding Hargrave good morning, walked towards the carriage. Having herself given the coachman his directions, she suffered Hargrave to hand her in, giving him a slight bow in token of dismissal. He continued, however, to stand for some moments with his foot upon the step, waiting for a look of permission to accompany her; but, receiving none, he sprung into the seat by her side, and called to the man to drive on. Laura offended at his boldness, gave him a very ungracious look, and drew back in silence, 'I see you think me presumptuous,' said he, 'but, just found, how can I consent to leave you? Oh Laura, if you knew what I have suffered from an absence that seemed endless! Not for worlds would I endure such another.'