“And so it was you who knocked at the door!” cried Mrs. Bloundel, regarding the gallant with a look of fury—­“it was you who contrived to delude me into opening it!  I do not ask why you have come hither like a thief in the night, because I require no information on the subject.  You are come to dishonour my child—­to carry her away from those who love her and cherish her, and would preserve her from such mischievous serpents as you.  But, Heaven be praised!  I have caught you before your wicked design could Be effected.  Oh!  Amabel, my child, my child!” she added, straining her to her bosom, “I had rather—­far rather—­see you stricken with the plague, like your poor brother, though I felt there was not a hope of your recovery, than you should fall into the hands of this Satan!”

“I have been greatly to blame, dear mother,” returned Amabel, bursting into tears; “and I shall neither seek to exculpate myself, nor conceal what I have done.  I have deceived you and my father.  I have secretly encouraged the addresses of this gentleman.  Nay, if the plague had not broken out in our house to-night, I should have flown from it with him.”

“You shock me, greatly, child,” returned Mrs. Bloundel; “but you relieve me at the same time.  Make a clean breast, and hide nothing from me.”

“I have nothing more to tell, dear mother,” replied Amabel, “except that Maurice Wyvil has been in the room ever since you left it, and might, perhaps, have carried me off in spite of my resistance, if you had not returned when you did.”

“It was, indeed, a providential interference,” rejoined Mrs. Bloundel.  “From what a snare of the evil one—­from what a pitfall have you been preserved!”

“I feel I have had a narrow escape, dear mother,” replied Amabel.  “Pardon me.  I do not deserve your forgiveness.  But I will never offend you more.”

“I forgive you from my heart, child, and will trust you,” returned Mrs. Bloundel, in a voice broken by emotion.

“That is more than I would,” thought Maurice Wyvil.  “A woman who has once deceived those she holds dear, will not fail to do so a second time.  The fairest promises are forgotten when the danger is past.”

“Mr. Wyvil, if you have a particle of regard for me, you will instantly leave the house,” said Amabel, turning to him.

“If had my own way, he should leave it through the window,” said Mrs. Bloundel; “and if he tarries a minute longer, I will give the alarm.”

“You hear this, sir,” cried Amabel:—­“go, I entreat you.”

“I yield to circumstance, Amabel,” replied Wyvil; “but think not I resign you.  Come what will, and however I may be foiled, I will not desist till I make you mine.”

“I tremble to hear him,” cried Mrs. Bloundel, “and could not have believed such depravity existed.  Quit the house, sir, directly, or I will have you turned out of it.”

“Do not remain another moment,” implored Amabel.  “Do not, do not!”