“Oh! Are you going to ride to Hardbargain? Then, perhaps, you will be pleased to learn that Zuleime is going there this morning, also, to assist Mrs. Clifton in putting the last finishing touches to her dress for this evening. And you can escort her!” said Georgia, smoothly gliding between them, and laying her head and hand with child-like freedom and affection upon the old man’s shoulder. “Oh! I shall be very happy!” said Frank, “_really_ happy—nay, _overjoyed, intoxicated_, with the prospect of an uninterrupted, farewell _tête à tête_ with Zuleime.” Old Mr. Clifton looked rather disappointed, but he was not of a very combative disposition—especially had he no inclination to contradict Georgia. Besides, he at once reflected that there was really no danger. They couldn’t be married in the neighborhood, because they could get no license, and no clergyman dare marry them without one. And it was not probable, or even possible, that Frank would elope with his daughter on the very eve of joining his regiment for a distant and dangerous service. In truth, he felt it was folly to cherish a misgiving. And yet he _had_ misgivings, nor could he banish them—the utmost extent of his self-control was—not to _act_ upon them—not to forbid their riding together. While Zuleime was putting on her hat and riding habit, Frank got the ear of the old gentleman once more, and for the last time. The old man had sunk into his broadbottomed flag chair in the hall, with his thick gold-headed stick between his knees, and his two hands and his chin resting upon it, when Frank stood before him with folded arms and head dropped upon his breast, and said— “Mr. Clifton—once more, and for the last time, I ask you, and I implore you to answer me candidly. Is there any possibility that, under any change of circumstances, at any future time, I may hope for your consent to my union with Zuleime?” The earnestness, deepening almost into solemnity, of the young man’s manner and words, impressed Mr. Clifton very deeply, but he replied—“Mr. Fairfax, it is best to speak the plain, harsh, cutting truth, though that truth is the axe laid to the root of all your hopes of Zuleime. No. Yet I regret this, Frank! You do not know how much! But you must forget her! I hope you will _soon_ do so! I know you _must_!” Frank shook his head in despairing negation. And farther colloquy was arrested by the coming down of Zuleime equipped for her ride. “Come here, my daughter! Now you must be _sure_ to be back by dinner time, do you hear?” “Certainly, sir!” “_Promise_ me.” “Of course I do.” “Upon your _honor_!” said the old man, seriously. “Upon my honor, sir, I will return by dinner time! But what makes you so emphatic about it, dear father?” “A notion of mine, my child! but I have your promise!” “Of course you have, sir!” said Zuleime, drawing on her gloves. Mr. Fairfax was taking leave of Mrs. Clifton. Presently he turned to bid adieu to Mr. Clifton.