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772 she would remain. within the carriage; the Colonel, wanted in London as soon as possible, whatever the result of his political mission to Darrell, could not remain long at Fawley; she would return with him. Vance's presence and impatient desire to embrace his niece did not allow the Colonel an occasion for argument and parley. Chafed at this fresh experience of the capricious uncertainty of woman, he had walked on with Vance to the Manor House. Left alone, Caroline could not endure the stillness and inaction which increased the tumult of her thoughts; she would at least have one more look—it might be the last—at the scenes in which her childhood had sported—her youth known its first happy dreams. But a few yards across those circumscribed demesnes, on through those shadowy, serried groves, and she should steal, unperceived, in view of the house, the beloved lake—perhaps even once more catch a passing glimpse of the owner. She resolved, she glided on, came; she gained the beech-grove, when, by the abrupt wind of the banks, Darrell and Alban came suddenly on the very spot. The flutter of her robe, as she turned to retreat, caught Alban's eye; the reader comprehends with what wily intent, conceived on the moment, that unscrupulous intrigant shaped the words that chained her footstep, and then stung her on to self-disclosure. Trembling and blushing, she now stood before the startled man—he, startled out of every other sentiment and feeling than that of ineffable, exquisite delight to be once more in her presence; she, after her first passionate outburst, hastening on, in confused, broken words, to explain that she was there but by accident—by chance; confusion growing deeper and deeper—how explain the motive that had charmed her steps to the spot?

Suddenly from the opposite bank came the music of the magic flute, and her voice as suddenly stopped and failed her.

"Again—again," said Darrell, dreamily. "The same music! the same air! and this the same place on which we two stood together when I first dared to say, 'I love!' Look, we are under the very tree! Look, there is the date I carved on the bark when you were gone, but had left Hope behind. Ah! Caroline, why can I not now resign myself to age? Why is youth, while I speak, rushing back into my heart, into my soul? Why can not I say, 'Gratefully I accept your tender friendship; let the past be forgotten; through what rests to me of the future while on earth, be to me as a child?' I cannot—I cannot! Go!"

She drew nearer to him, gently, timidly. "Even that, Darrell—even that; something in your life—let me be something still!"