As Gladys spoke, she lifted her eyes solemnly to heaven—­both her hands were held by Colonel Vaughan.

As he gazed at her, he suddenly relaxed his hold, saying, ’You are a wonderful girl!  I do not persecute you, but I will not give you up.’

No sooner did Gladys feel the grasp loosen, than she made a sudden bound, almost a leap, onwards, and ran with incredible swiftness through the path.

Colonel Vaughan pursued her, but soon found that she ran more swiftly than he did.  However, he would not give up the chase, and in spite of the hot sun, ran on, in somewhat undignified haste and anger.

Every one knows that winding paths in plantations are not always perfectly smooth.  So found our gallant colonel to his cost.

With his eyes fixed on the quickly vanishing form of Gladys, how was he to see the gnarled root of an oak, that sprung up through the ground, directly in his path?  His foot caught in it, and he fell with considerable violence upon his face.  He got up again as quickly as he could, cursing his carelessness and folly.

He felt that he had knocked his somewhat prominent nose rather severely, and to his great dismay, found that it was bleeding copiously.

All further pursuit was out of the question.  He must staunch the blood of the much-offending member, and being rather giddy for the moment, sat down to do so.

It is said that any sudden and violent blow sobers a drunkard; so did this unforeseen fall sober the mental intoxication of the colonel.  As his nose bled, so did his intellect clear.  Bleeding, on the old system, was never more successful.

This was truly a descent, if not from the sublime, at least from the heroic, to the ridiculous.  Panting with heat, bleeding, apostrophising, the lover came to his senses.

Partly aloud, at intervals, partly muttered between his teeth, he gave forth the following sentences; and when he became calm he thought the subsequent thoughts, which, although he did not rail them forth against the rooks and smaller birds, we will venture to repeat, for the further elucidating the mystery of his mind.

’Fool to let go her arm!  No; fool to take it at all!  What a girl!  I never saw such—­pho!  How it bleeds!  Will it never stop!  They’ll think there’s been a murder here.  What could possess me to run after her?  A rustic coquette!  Rustic!  No; a most courtly one.  She had me fairly in her power.  But she has too much sense to tell.  ’Pon my word, I never loved any one so much before.  Disgusting!  All over my cravat.  If I were to meet any one?  If Freda were to see me, what would she think or say?  And I actually talked of marriage.  Let me see; what did I say?  But nobody could believe her.  Pshaw! what a fool I have been.  Suppose she had taken me at my word, and accepted me, I wonder how I could have got out of it!  There is such a power in her eyes, that as long as I am looking at them