'You terrify me, Mr Harleigh! Let me go!--instantly! instantly!--Would you make me hate--' She had begun with a precipitance nearly vehement; but stopt abruptly. 'Hate me?' cried Harleigh, with a look appalled: 'Good Heaven!' 'Hate you?--No,--not you!... I did not say you!--' 'Who, then? who then, should I make you hate?--Lord Melbury?--' 'O no, never!--'tis impossible!--Let me be gone!--let me be gone!--' 'Not till you tell me whom I should make you hate! I cannot part with you in this new ignorance! Clear, at least, this one little point Whom should I make hate you?--' 'Myself, Sir, myself!' cried she, trembling and struggling. 'If you persist in thus punishing my not having fled from you, at once, as I would have fled from an enemy!' He immediately let go her hand; but, finding that, though her look was instantly appeased, nay grateful, she was hastily retreating, he glided between her and the door, crying, 'Where,--at least deign to tell me!--Where may I see,--may I speak to you again?' 'Any where, any where!'--replied she, with quickness; but presently, with a sudden check of vivacity, added, 'No where, I mean!--no where, Sir, no where!'-- 'Is this possible!' exclaimed he. 'Can you,--even in your wishes,--can you be so hard of heart?'-- 'It is you,' said she reproachfully, 'who are hard of heart, to detain me thus!--Think but where I am!--where you are!--This house--Miss Joddrel--What may not be the consequence?--Is it Mr Harleigh who would deliver me over to calumny?' Harleigh now held open the door for her himself, without venturing to reply, as he heard footsteps upon the stairs; but he permitted his lips to touch her arm, for he could not again seize her hand, as she passed him, eagerly, and with her face averted. She fled on to the stairs, and rapidly ascended them. Harleigh durst now follow; but he pursued her with his eyes. He could not, however, catch a glance, could not even view her profile, so sedulously her head was turned another way. Disappointment and mortification were again seizing him; till he considered, that that countenance thus hidden, had she been wholly unfearful of shewing some little emotion, had probably, nay, even purposely, been displayed. Fleetly gaining her room, and dropping upon a chair, 'I must fly!--I must fly!' she exclaimed. 'Danger, here, attacks me in every quarter,--assails me in every shape! I must fly!--I must fly!' This project, which had its origin in her terrour of Elinor, was now confirmed by the most profound, however troubled meditation. To difficulties of discussion which she deemed insurmountable with Harleigh; to claims of a confidence which she now considered to be deeply dangerous with Lord Melbury; and to indignities daily, nay, hourly, more insufferable from Mrs Ireton, were joined, at this moment, the horrour of another interview with Lord Denmeath, still more repugnant to her thoughts, and formidable to her fears.