'And is he now in the house,' cried Montreville, with an animation which he had long laid aside. 'I rejoice to hear it. Return to him immediately, my love. I will see him in a few minutes.' 'As soon as you choose to receive him,' said Laura; 'I shall carry your commands. I shall remain in the dressing-room.' 'For shame, Laura!' returned Montreville. 'I thought you had been above these silly airs of conquest. Colonel Hargrave's rejected passion gives you no right to refuse him the politeness due to all your father's guests.' 'Certainly not, Sir, but'--she stopped, hesitating--'however,' added she, 'since _you_ wish it, I will go.' It was not without embarrassment that Laura returned to her lover; to offer him another tête à tête seemed so like soliciting a renewal of his ardours. In this idea she was stopping at the parlour door, collecting her courage, and meditating a speech decorously repulsive, when Hargrave, who had been listening for her approach, impatiently stepped out to look for her, and in a moment spoiled all her concerted oratory, by taking her hand and leading her into the room. Though Hargrave could at any time take Laura's feelings by surprise, an instant was sufficient to restore her self-possession; and withdrawing her hand, she said, 'In a few minutes, Sir, my father will be glad to see you, and at his desire I attend you till he can have that honour.' 'Bless him for the delay!' cried Hargrave, 'I have a thousand things to say to you.' 'And I, Sir,' said Laura, solemnly, 'have one thing to say to you, of more importance to me, probably, than all the thousand.' Hargrave bit his lip; and Laura proceeded, her colour, as painful recollection rose, fading from the crimson that had newly flushed it, to the paleness of anguish. 'Six months ago,' said she, speaking with an effort that rendered her words scarcely articulate--'Six months ago you made me a promise. Judge of my anxiety that you should keep it, when to secure its fulfilment I can call up a subject so revolting--so dreadful.' She paused--a cold shudder running through her limbs: but Hargrave, abashed and disconcerted, gave her no interruption, and ventured not even to raise his eyes from the ground. 'My father,' she continued, 'is no longer able to avenge his child;--the bare mention of her wrongs would destroy him. If then you value my peace--if you dread my detestation--let no circumstance seduce, no accident surprise from you this hateful secret.'