exist without the sound of your voice, though me it might never more address.  I could not live without glancing on your expressive eyes, your eloquent smile, though on me neither more might beam.  I am here, I feel my folly, but I cannot tear myself away.  Caroline, adorable Caroline!” he continued, with well-practised passion, “only speak, command me; in what way can I relieve the grief in which I see you plunged?  Give me at least the gratification of feeling I have been of service to you; that I have done somewhat for your happiness, though by you mine has fled for ever.”

Rapidly yet eloquently had he spoken, and Caroline vainly struggled with herself to interrupt him.  He believed she had rejected him, and in that moment she contrasted his present conduct with that of Lord St. Eval, under the same circumstances, and surely she could doubt no longer which loved her best.  She had not seen the secret agony of the one—­his proud and noble heart concealed it; but Alphingham—­when such devoted love was offered her, would she condemn it to misery, and herself to everlasting reproach, if not to equal woe?

“You are mistaken, my lord,” she said, proudly, after a severe struggle with herself.  “Lay not to my charge the loss of your happiness.  I was not aware till this instant that it depended—­” She stopped abruptly, for the natural modesty of her disposition prevented more, indignant as she was at the confirmation of Annie’s suspicions.

Lord Alphingham saw his advantage, and pursued it.

“How!” he exclaimed, in an accent of astonishment and ecstasy well combined.  “Have you too been deceived, and my proposals rejected without having been laid before you?  Can it be possible?  Oh, speak again, my beloved Caroline! tell me I have not been too presuming—­that I may hope that my long-cherished visions are not false.  You will not, oh, you will not condemn me to misery—­you will not reject my heart, and send me despairing from your feet.  Caroline, my beloved, my beautiful! say that you will be merciful—­say that you love me—­that I love not alone; oh, say, promise me you will be mine, and come what will we shall be happy.”

She heard, and her heart throbbed and her brain reeled; in the infatuation of that moment, all, all was forgotten, save the persuasions of Annie, his pleading eloquence, the wild impulse of her own blinded fancy; the fatal promise passed her lips—­she was pledged to be his own.  A few minutes she listened to his impassioned thanks, his words of devoted love, then suddenly starting back—­

“My father!” she exclaimed, and burst into a passionate flood of tears.