“It would gladden me if she would do so,” said Mrs. Bloundel.

“There is your father’s apprentice, Leonard Holt, a good-looking, well-grown lad,” pursued the doctor; “and I much mistake if he is insensible to your attractions.”

“I am sure he loves her dearly, doctor,” replied Mrs. Bloundel.  “He is as well-principled as well-looking.  I have never had a fault to find with him since he came to live with us.  It will rejoice me, and I am sure would not displease my husband, to see our child united to Leonard Holt.”

“Well, what say you, Amabel?” asked Hodges.  “Can you give him a hope?”

“Alas, no!” replied Amabel; “I have been deceived once, but I will not be deceived a second time.  I will never wed.”

“So every woman says after her first disappointment,” observed Hodges; “but not one in ten adheres to the resolution.  When you become calmer, I would recommend you to think seriously of Leonard Holt.”

At this moment, a tap was heard at the door, and opening it, the doctor beheld the person in question.

“What is the matter?” cried Hodges.  “I hope nothing is amiss.”

“Nothing whatever,” replied Leonard, “but my master wishes to see you before you leave the house.”

“I will go to him at once,” replied the doctor.  “Good day, Mrs. Bloundel.  Take care of your daughter, and I hope she will take care of herself.  We have been talking about you, young man,” he added in a low tone to the apprentice, “and I have recommended you as a husband to Amabel.”

“There was a time, sir,” rejoined Leonard, in a tone of deep emotion, “when I hoped it might be so, but that time is past.”

“No such thing,” replied the doctor.  “Now is the time to make an impression.  Her heart is on the rebound.  She is satisfied of her lover’s treachery.  Her mother is on your side.  Do not neglect the present opportunity, for another may not arrive.”  With this he pushed Leonard into the room, and, shutting the door upon him, hurried downstairs.

“You have arrived at a seasonable juncture, Leonard,” observed Mrs. Bloundel, noticing the apprentice’s perplexity, and anxious to relieve it.  “We have just discovered that the person calling himself Maurice Wyvil is no other than the Earl of Rochester.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Leonard.

“Yes, indeed,” returned Mrs. Bloundel.  “But this is not all.  Amabel has promised to forget him, and I have urged her to think of you.”

“Amabel,” said Leonard, advancing towards her, and taking her hand, “I can scarcely credit what I hear.  Will you confirm your mother’s words?”

“Leonard,” returned Amabel, “I am not insensible to your good qualities, and no one can more truly esteem you than I do.  Nay, till I unfortunately saw the Earl of Rochester, whom I knew not as such, I might have loved you.  But now I cannot call my heart my own.  I have not the affection you deserve to bestow upon you.  If I can obliterate this treacherous man’s image from my memory—­and Heaven, I trust, will give me strength to do so—­I will strive to replace it with your own.”