'Has she consented,' interrupted Hargrave—'will she give herself to me?'
Montreville shook his head. 'Her affections are wholly yours,' said he, 'you may yourself be more successful—I fervently wish that you may. But why this strange emotion? What has happened?'
'Nothing, nothing,' said Hargrave, 'ask me no questions; but let me speak instantly with Laura.'
'You shall see her,' returned Montreville, opening the door, and calling Laura, 'Only I beseech you to command yourself, for my poor child is already half distracted.' 'She is the fitter to converse with me,' said Hargrave, with a ghastly smile, 'for I am upon the very verge of madness.'
Laura came at her father's summons; but when she saw Hargrave, the colour faded from her face, an universal tremour seized her, she stopped, and leaned on the door for support. 'Colonel Hargrave wishes to speak with you alone,' said Montreville, 'go with him to the parlour.'
'I cannot,' answered Laura, in words scarcely audible—'this night I cannot.'
'I command you to go,' said the father in a tone which he had seldom employed, and Laura instantly prepared to go. 'Surely, surely,' said she, 'Heaven will not leave me to my own weakness, whilst I act in obedience to you.'
Perceiving that she trembled violently, Hargrave offered her the support of his circling arm; but Laura instantly disengaged herself. 'Will you not lean on me, dearest Laura,' said he; 'perhaps it is for the last time.'
'I hope,' answered Laura, endeavouring to exert her spirit, 'it will be the last time that you will avail yourself of my father's authority to constrain me.'
'Spare me your reproaches, Laura,' said Hargrave, 'for I am desperate. All that I desire on earth—my life itself depends upon this hour.'