"He may. But what is all his heart when he is so ready to trifle with others? Miss Neville," and his voice was still more gentle, and very pitying in its tone; "you are alone, perhaps feel alone in this house, and are young, very young to be so thrown upon the world, which you find a cold and desolate one, I have no doubt. He has been ever kind and courteous. I fear too much so, and I do not wonder he has created an interest in your heart, and at last won it. But he must not be allowed to trifle with it while I stand by. No. It shall never be!"
"Oh! Mr. Linchmore!" exclaimed Amy, now indeed feeling utterly desolate at this continued accusation, and belief in her love for Robert Vavasour.
"Hush!" he rejoined, gently placing his hand on her soft hair, as she sat with her face bowed in her hands. "Poor girl; poor desolate young creature; your happiness shall be my first care, you shall no longer feel alone; there is no need to tell me anything. I know all that your heart cannot speak, even to your fainting when you saw him brought home the other evening."
Amy's sobs burst out afresh; she felt totally unable to stay them or convince Mr. Linchmore he was mistaken.
"Well, well," he continued with a sigh, "it cannot be helped now, things must take their course; but with him I will have a reckoning," and the old stern look once more flitted across his face. "But fear not, Miss Neville; for the sake of your love for him, I will be calm and control my anger."
"You will not tell him I care for him—love him, Mr. Linchmore? Oh! no, no, you could not do so!" said Amy, with fear.
"I will not; that must rest with you alone, with that I can have nothing to do, your future happiness must be made or marred by yourself alone. You need have no fear, but trust; only trust in me, Miss Neville."
"And I shall see him, shall speak to him myself—alone?"
"You shall do so. He shall hear no word of your love from me."
"You promise it, Mr. Linchmore," said Amy, now for the first time raising her eyes to his.