The reflections of Laura were disturbed by the noise of some one springing over the fence; and, the next moment, Hargrave was at her side. Laura uttered neither shriek nor exclamation--but she turned; and, with steps as precipitate as would bear the name of walking, proceeded towards the gate. Hargrave followed her. 'Am I indeed so happy as to find you alone?' said he. Laura replied not, by word or look. 'Suffer me to detain you for a few moments.' Laura rather quickened her pace. 'Will you not speak to me Miss Montreville?' said Hargrave, in a tone of tender reproach. Laura continued to advance. 'Stay but one moment,' said he, in a voice of supplication. Laura laid her hand upon the gate. Hargrave's patience was exhausted. 'By heaven you _shall_ hear me!' he cried, and, throwing his arm round her, compelled her to be seated on the stone-bench at the gate. Laura coldly withdrew herself. 'By what right, Sir,' said she, 'do you presume to detain me?' 'By the right of wretchedness--of misery not to be endured. Since I last saw you, I have never known rest or peace. Surely, Laura, you are now sufficiently avenged--surely your stubborn pride may now condescend to hear me.'--'Well, Sir,' said Laura, without attempting to depart; 'what are your commands?' 'Oh, Laura, I cannot bear your displeasure--it makes me supremely miserable. If you have any pity, grant me your forgiveness.' 'If my forgiveness is of any value to you, I give it you, I trust, like a Christian--from the heart. Now, then, suffer me to go.' 'What--think you it is the frozen forgiveness of duty that will content me? Torn, as I am, by every passion that can drive man to frenzy, think you that I will accept--that I will endure this heartless, scornful pardon? Laura, you loved me once. I have doated on you--pined for you--and passion--passion only--will I accept, or bear from you.' Laura shrunk trembling from his violence. 'Colonel Hargrave,' said she, 'if you do not restrain this vehemence, I must, I will be gone. I would fain spare you unnecessary pain; but while you thus agitate yourself, my stay is useless to you, and to me most distressing.' 'Say, then, that you accept my vows--that, hopeless of happiness but with me, you bind yourself to me alone, and for ever. Speak, heavenly creature, and bless me beyond the fairest dreams of hope!' 'Colonel Hargrave,' said Laura, 'you have my forgiveness. My--what shall I say--my esteem you have cast from you--my best wishes for your happiness shall ever be yours--more I cannot give. In pity to yourself, then--in pity to me--renounce one who can never be yours.'