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after indulging in libations that were too abundant, pro- mised him, on his word of honor, the hand of Clara.

“There are more words than one to be said to that,” was murmured in his ear by a low voice.

The Colonel, as much surprised as he was irritated, ‘turned round to the side from which he thonght be heard these words uttered, but he only saw behind his arm- chuir the moveleas face of his old servant, John. Now, though this domestic waa in the enjoyment of all the privileges that attach to an old, devoted, long-tried faithful servant, still it never for an instant entered into the mind of Sir Frederick that the audacious interruption could have come from him.

euAPTER if.

Tim next morning, whon the Baronet recalled to mind the imprudent promixe that he had given, he experienced an involuntary sinking of the heart; for, although he had reared his daughter in those absolute idens of obedience that made him coinplete master of her will, s(ill he could not but admit to bimself, that he was conscious vf the mutual affection entertained by “Clara and Richard Clark for each other. Yet he bad no idea that their feelings had deepened into a profound passion—besides, his word of honor was pledged, and for s man like him, an inevitable engagement bad been entered into, of which no considertion could prevent the accomplishment,

Filled with those thoughts, he sought out Clara, and found her seated in the garden bencath a fittle bower that wae raised as a boundaryemark between the two adjoiaing estates. Who could picture her afftight and despair when the Baronet apprised her of his projects with regard to her. Clara remained for a few moments utterly duimb—quite unable to move—and then—grasp- ing the hands of the old man, she saitl,

“Ah! let me but think that this is only a terrible trial to which you would expose, and thereby test, my filial obedience, Never—oh! no—never could you think of binding up the destiny of your only child, with that of a man she could not love. And then, father, you know well-—very well, that I do not love

"Sir Charles, My heart belongs to Richard Clark, and never can be transferred to another. Besides, who is this man that you have chosen as my husband? You scarcely know him—you never heard of him. He pre- sents himself in your house without being known to you. Two months ago you had never heard of him; and yet an instant suffices to make hin master of your confidence, and of all your atfections—and you—you fling into hie arme your child, your poor chikl; you do this without resolution, without fear—without even the certainty that you may not bind one whose life is pure as her blood to one, who———

«Silence, Clara; I tell you to be silent,

Remember

THE LADY'S

that you are my daughter, and that to my will you ought always to le obedient.”

«Alaat is it not you that have forgot thal you are my father? Force me not to this marriage; 1 ask—heseech you on my knees,”

Sir Charles ‘tore himself away from Clara, with a look in which an attentive obyorver might discover, perhaps, as much of compassion ax of severity. ‘Then ‘he said ina stern tone of voice, which betrayed how much bis resolution cost to himself—

“You shall obey me, Clara.”

Hearing these words, the poor gitt covered her face with hee hands, and burst into tears; she felt thut there was to be no happiness for her in this world, and she cried out—

“Heaven have pity on me, for my father atendons me”?

Sir Frederick became pale with emotion; for it was the frst time in his life that a harsh or menacing word disturbed the aweet sentiment of cordial fecling that united him to his daughter. Eighteen yeara bad passed over their affection, and had clothed it with character of sanctity, that was now, pethaps, about to disappear forever. Sir Frederick felt this; and feeling it, ho was about to faint lo the earth. He hurried out of her sight, in order that he might conquer the desire that he expe- rienced to throw his arms around the neck of Clara, aud to say, “I ebali be perjurcd, but thou must be made happy.”

Searcely, however, hai be disappeared, when a young man burst from behind a clump of trees, where be had kept himself concealed during this discourse,

“Weep no more, Clara,” he exclaimed, “you shall never be the wife of Sir Chartes Luttrell. There remains ‘one way of preventing it, and I mean to employ it.”

Clara raised her eyes that were swimming in tears toward her lover, and contemplated him with allright,

“That ie that you would kill Sir Charles or die your- self? Oh, horrible!—a duel! But no, Richard; for suppose you were to be victorione in’ eo detestable an affair, still your very victory would be an insurmountable barrier between us.”

“What, then, is to be done? What is to be done?” cried Richard Clark, in a tone of the bitterest despair.

« Wait,” said a voice behind them.

The two young pertona trembled, end at the same moment turning round, they beheld: before them the old servant, John—Sir Frederick’s man, who had approached them noisclessly, and had listened to them without being hirnself’ seen,

"There are words which at times, according to the accent in which they are pronounced, bring conviction along with them, ‘The firm and assured tone with which John had uttered the single word “ Wait,” had dceply struck both Richord and Clara. They neser

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