“Since you are of this mind,” returned Patience, in a tone of incredulity, “you are more to be rejoiced with than pitied.  But we are not overheard,” she added, almost in a whisper, and glancing towards the door.  “You may entirely confide in me.  The time is arrived when you can escape to your lover.”

“No more of this,” rejoined Amabel, severely, “or I shall command you to leave the room.”

“This is nothing more than pique,” thought Patience.  “We women are all hypocrites, even to ourselves.  I will serve her whether she will or not.  She shall see the earl.  I hope there is no harm in wishing you may be happy with Leonard Holt,” she added aloud. “He will make you a capital husband.”

“That subject is equally disagreeable—­equally painful to me,” said Amabel.

“I had better hold my tongue altogether,” rejoined Patience, somewhat pertly.  “Whatever I say seems to be wrong.  It won’t prevent me from doing as I would be done by,” she added to herself.

Amabel’s preparations finished, she dismissed Patience, to whom she gave some few slight remembrances, and was soon afterwards joined by her father.  They passed half an hour together, as on the former night, in serious and devout conversation, after which Mr. Bloundel left her for a few minutes to let down Blaize.  On his return he tenderly embraced her, and led her into the passage.  They had not advanced many steps when Mrs. Bloundel rushed forth to meet them.  She was in her night-dress, and seemed overwhelmed with affliction.

“How is this, Honora?” cried her husband, in a severe tone.  “You promised me you would see Amabel no more.  You will only distress her.”

“I could not let her go thus,” cried Mrs. Bloundel.  “I was listening at my chamber door to hear her depart, and when I caught the sound of her footsteps, I could no longer control myself.”  So saying, she rushed to her daughter, and clasped her in her arms.

Affectionately returning her mother’s embrace, Amabel gave her hand to her father, who conducted her to the little room overlooking the street.  Nothing more, except a deep and passionate look, was exchanged between them.  Both repressed their emotion, and though the heart of each was bursting, neither shed a tear.  At that moment, and for the first time, they greatly resembled each other; and this was not surprising, for intense emotion, whether of grief or joy, will bring out lines in the features that lie hidden at other times.  Without a word, Mr. Bloundel busied himself in arranging the pulley; and calling to those below to prepare for Amabel’s descent, again embraced her, kissed her pale brow, and, placing her carefully in the basket, lowered her slowly to the ground.  She was received in safety by Leonard, who carried her in his arms, and placed her on the pillion.  The pulley was then drawn up, and her luggage lowered by Mr. Bloundel, and placed in the saddle-bags by the apprentice.  Every one