“Possibly, Miss Wilton!” he answered, rapidly. “I forget that--all, everything in the world, in your beautiful presence. You must have seen long since, Miss Wilton, how completely you have enslaved my heart, how entirely my whole being is absorbed by a devouring passion for you. In my words--in my looks---in my manner, you must have observed how ardently I love you--you must perceive and comprehend that I cannot live without you. Oh, Miss Wilton, I am aware your imagination has been ensnared by a generous impulse in favour of another; but believe that he can never--would never perform one tithe of the devotions I will offer up at your shrine. He would not--no other being would so constantly and unceasingly worship you--so persistently consult your happiness and do so much to secure it as I; for, oh, no other can love you with the impetuous soul-worship which burns in my breast for you.” “This language, in this place, is an insult to me, Colonel Mires. I demand to be allowed to depart,” cried Flora, as soon as she could recover from the bewilderment his torrent of passionate words occasioned her. “I only ask Miss Wilton for one small word--tell me to hope--one kind look, and the displacement of that offended expression upon your face by a forgiving smile, for I do nought in offence but all in love.” “I insist on not being detained, sir,” she cried, indignantly; “you must answer to my father, Colonel Mires, for this unmanly outrage.” She sprang past him, and was about to rush from the spot, when Chewkle made his appearance, out of breath. He had been running; in his turn he intercepted her--“Beg pardon,” he said, almost inarticulately; “you are Miss Wilton, I b’lieve?” “I am,” said Flora, readily, for even in this man she believed she should find a protector from the importunities of the now-detested Colonel Mires. “That’s all right,” responded Mr. Chewkle, still panting. “I’ve been ’untin’ all over the grounds arter you, Miss, for I’ve a very pertikler dockyment to give into your ’ands alone.” “A document into my hands--what do you mean, my good man?” she responded, with surprise. “Yes, Miss, a letter,” he returned, with a kind of knowing nod. Colonel Mires retired a few paces, as if animated by a well-bred desire not to play the part of an eavesdropper. “Why did you not leave this communication at the Hall?” said Flora, with some misgiving. “Why take so much trouble to find me?” “Because, as I told you, Miss, I was charged to give it into your ’ands only. You knows Mrs. Harper of Highbury, don’t you, Miss? aunt to poor young Mr. Vivian, poor fellow, poor fellow!” Flora’s face blanched. His last sentence sounded like the sudden boom of a death-knell in her ear. She tried to speak but found it impossible to articulate a word. Mr. Chewkle placed in her cold hand the letter he had received from Colonel Mires.