“No, my lord, you have broken it already,” returned Amabel.  “My father shall know the truth.”

A dark shade passed over Rochester’s countenance, and a singular and most forbidding expression, which Amabel had once before noticed, took possession of it.  His love for her seemed changed to hate, and she tremblingly averted her gaze.  At this juncture, the door opened, and the grocer and his wife entered the room.  The former started, on seeing Amabel and the supposed preacher in such close propinquity, and a painful suspicion of the truth crossed his mind.  He was not, however, kept long in suspense.  Throwing off his wig, and letting his own fair ringlets fall over his shoulders, the earl tore open his cassock, and disclosed his ordinary rich attire.  At the same time, his face underwent an equally striking change,—­each feature resuming its original expression; and the grocer, though he witnessed the whole transformation, could scarcely believe that the same individual he had recently beheld stood before him.

“You now know who I am, Mr. Bloundel, and what brought me hither,” said Rochester, with a haughty salutation.

“I do, my lord,” replied the grocer, “and I give you full credit for your daring and ingenuity.  After the manner in which I have been imposed upon myself, I can make allowance for others.”  He then turned to Amabel, and said, in a severe tone, “You are no longer my daughter.”

“Father!” she cried, rushing towards him and throwing herself at his feet, “do not cast me off for ever.  I am not now to blame.  It is owing to my determination to disclose all to you that the earl has thus revealed himself.  I might have deceived you further—­might have fled with him.”

“Forgive her! oh, forgive her!” cried Mrs. Bloundel—­“or, if any ill happens to her, you will be answerable for it.”

“Is this the truth, my lord?” asked the grocer.

Rochester bowed stiffly in acquiescence.

“Then you are again my child,” said Bloundel, raising her, and pressing her to his bosom.  “What are your intentions towards her?” he continued, addressing the earl.

“They may be readily surmised,” replied Rochester, with a scornful laugh.

“Will you wed her, if I agree to the union,” asked Bloundel, trembling with concentrated rage.

Amabel looked at her lover as if her life hung on his answer.

Rochester affected not to hear the question, but, as it was repeated still more peremptorily, he repeated carelessly,—­“I will consider of it.”

“Deceived! deceived!” cried Amabel, falling on her mother’s neck, and bursting into tears.

“This outrage shall not pass unpunished,” cried Bloundel.  And before the earl could draw his sword or offer any resistance, he threw himself upon him, and hurling him to the ground, set his foot upon his bosom.

“Do not kill him,” shrieked Amabel, terrified by the stern expression of her father’s countenance.