The exquisite beauty of form was there, but the
light of joy which had lent its most transcendent charms to that
heavenly face, was gone. Charles was by her side in a moment. He had her
hand clasped in his, while his disengaged one was wound tenderly around
her taper waist. "Flora, dear, dear Flora," he said, "you are better. Tell me that you
feel the gentle air revives you?" She could not speak. Her heart was too full of woe. "Oh; Flora, my own, my beautiful," he added, in those tones which come
so direct from the heart, and which are so different from any assumption
of tenderness. "Speak to me, dear, dear Flora--speak to me if it be but
a word." "Charles," was all she could say, and then she burst into a flood of
tears, and leant so heavily upon his arm, that it was evident but for
that support she must have fallen. Charles Holland welcomed those, although, they grieved him so much that
he could have accompanied them with his own, but then he knew that she
would be soon now more composed, and that they would relieve the heart
whose sorrows called them into existence. He forbore to speak to her until he found this sudden gush of feeling
was subsiding into sobs, and then in low, soft accents, he again
endeavoured to breathe comfort to her afflicted and terrified spirit. "My Flora," he said, "remember that there are warm hearts that love you. Remember that neither time nor circumstance can change such endearing
affection as mine. Ah, Flora, what evil is there in the whole world that
love may not conquer, and in the height of its noble feelings laugh to
scorn." "Oh, hush, hush, Charles, hush." "Wherefore, Flora, would you still the voice of pure affection? I love
you surely, as few have ever loved. Ah, why would you forbid me to give
such utterance as I may to those feelings which fill up my whole heart?" "No--no--no." "Flora, Flora, wherefore do you say no?" "Do not, Charles, now speak to me of affection or love. Do not tell me
you love me now." "Not tell you I love you! Ah, Flora, if my tongue, with its poor
eloquence to give utterance to such a sentiment, were to do its office,
each feature of my face would tell the tale. Each action would show to
all the world how much I loved you." "I must not now hear this. Great God of Heaven give me strength to carry
out the purpose of my soul." "What purpose is it, Flora, that you have to pray thus fervently for
strength to execute? Oh, if it savour aught of treason against love's
majesty, forget it. Love is a gift from Heaven. The greatest and the
most glorious gift it ever bestowed upon its creatures. Heaven will not
aid you in repudiating that which is the one grand redeeming feature
that rescues human nature from a world of reproach." Flora wrung her hands despairingly as she said,--

"Charles, I know I cannot reason with you. I know I have not power of
language, aptitude of illustration, nor depth of thought to hold a
mental contention with you." "Flora, for what do I contend?" "You, you speak of love." "And I have, ere this, spoken to you of love unchecked." "Yes, yes. Before this." "And now, wherefore not now? Do not tell me you are changed." "I am changed, Charles. Fearfully changed. The curse of God has fallen
upon me, I know not why. I know not that in word or in thought I have
done evil, except perchance unwittingly, and yet--the vampyre." "Let not that affright you." "Affright me! It has killed me." "Nay, Flora,--you think too much of what I still hope to be susceptible
of far more rational explanation." "By your own words, then, Charles, I must convict you. I cannot, I dare
not be yours, while such a dreadful circumstance is hanging over me,
Charles; if a more rational explanation than the hideous one which my
own fancy gives to the form that visits me can be found, find it, and
rescue me from despair and from madness." They had now reached the summer-house, and as Flora uttered these words
she threw herself on to a seat, and covering her beautiful face with her
hands, she sobbed convulsively. "You have spoken," said Charles, dejectedly. "I have heard that which
you wished to say to me." "No, no. Not all, Charles." "I will be patient, then, although what more you may have to add should
tear my very heart-strings." "I--I have to add, Charles," she said, in a tremulous voice, "that
justice, religion, mercy--every human attribute which bears the name of
virtue, calls loudly upon me no longer to hold you to vows made under
different auspices." "Go on, Flora." "I then implore you, Charles, finding me what I am, to leave me to the
fate which it has pleased Heaven to cast upon me. I do not ask you,
Charles, not to love me." "'Tis well. Go on, Flora." "Because I should like to think that, although I might never see you
more, you loved me still. But you must think seldom of me, and you must
endeavour to be happy with some other--"

"You cannot, Flora, pursue the picture you yourself would draw. These
words come not from your heart." "Yes--yes--yes." "Did you ever love me?" "Charles, Charles, why will you add another pang to those you know must
already rend my heart?" "No, Flora, I would tear my own heart from my bosom ere I would add one
pang to yours. Well I know that gentle maiden modesty would seal your
lips to the soft confession that you loved me. I could not hope the joy
of hearing you utter these words. The tender devoted lover is content to
see the truthful passion in the speaking eyes of beauty. Content is he
to translate it from a thousand acts, which, to eyes that look not so
acutely as a lover's, bear no signification; but when you tell me to
seek happiness with another, well may the anxious question burst from my
throbbing heart of, 'Did you ever love me, Flora?'" Her senses hung entranced upon his words. Oh, what a witchery is in the
tongue of love. Some even of the former colour of her cheek returned as
forgetting all for the moment but that she was listening to the voice of
him, the thoughts of whom had made up the day dream of her happiness,
she gazed upon his face. His voice ceased. To her it seemed as if some music had suddenly left
off in its most exquisite passage. She clung to his arm--she looked
imploringly up to him. Her head sunk upon his breast as she cried,

"Charles, Charles, I did love you. I do love you now." "Then let sorrow and misfortune shake their grisly locks in vain," he
cried. "Heart to heart--hand to hand with me, defy them." He lifted up his arms towards Heaven as he spoke, and at the moment came
such a rattling peal of thunder, that the very earth seemed to shake
upon its axis. A half scream of terror burst from the lips of Flora, as she cried,--

"What was that?" "Only thunder," said Charles, calmly. "'Twas an awful sound." "A natural one." "But at such a moment, when you were defying Fate to injure us. Oh! Charles, is it ominous?" "Flora, can you really give way to such idle fancies?" "The sun is obscured." "Ay, but it will shine all the brighter for its temporary eclipse.