“You have no objection, Master Vivian,” observed Wilton, fancying that he hesitated.
“Objection!” echoed Hal, with an astounded look.
Objection! What, to have Flora to himself for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour? unquestionably not. He emphatically expressed himself to that effect, and so Flora tied on her sweet little bonnet, and put on her neat little mantle, and laid the softest of soft hands upon his arm, making it thrill to his heart, near to which it rested, until he hardly remembered anything but that she was at his side—at once the richest, dearest treasure upon earth.
Confused by the noise, and by the jostling of the throng of persons in the racket ground, they unconsciously strolled round to the back of the prison, or to the county side, as it is termed.
Between the hours of ten and three, this part was comparatively deserted. At the period of which we are writing, the needy prisoners, who lived on the support of their creditors and the county, were alone permitted to mix on the parade in front, or to visit their fellow prisoners who were better off than themselves, during that part of the day.
No county prisoner—for they had their prison pride—liked to be looked upon as a “county bird,” so he showed himself in front as long as he could. The back part, thus, as we have said, had few persons promenading its precincts at the hours named.
Flora and Hal were, in consequence, comparatively alone in their walk.
As they strolled on, both seemed full of thought; after a silence, which endured for a short time, a few remarks were made, but of no personal nature; at length Hal ventured to say to her—
“Can it be possible, my dear Miss Wilton, that your father is not labouring under a delusion in speaking of his immediate liberation?”
Somehow Flora had expected this question, yet she had not prepared an answer to it. She paused for a moment, then replied—