Wilton started, and fixed upon him an incredulous stare.
“Your condition, after you received your wound, prevented your being told what really occasioned the illness of your daughter Flora,” said Gomer, impressively; “let me briefly explain. The details you shall be made acquainted with hereafter, Your late guest, Colonel Mires, who began life by plunging from gambling into forgery, and whom you saved from destruction by timely repairing the consequences of his crime, who, in turn, obtained Harleydale for you, conceived a passion for your daughter Flora——”
“I had some such suspicion,” ejaculated Wilton, looking aghast, as if he feared what was about to follow.
“He, sir, finding that the field was occupied,” continued Gomer—“that he should never gain your consent to marry her, nor her consent to have him, acted independently of both, and carried her off.”
“Carried her off?”
“Precisely. In accordance with a most skilfully devised plot he bore her off on the morning on which that knave Chewkle fired at you. The same active spirit that interfered so opportunely in your favour discovered the abduction, and pursued the ravisher. He succeeded in overtaking, in rescuing, and restoring your daughter safely to her home again.”
There was a pause for a minute.
Then Nathan Gomer said, drily—
“Not a fellow this to receive a money compensation.”
Mr. Wilton made two or three efforts to speak; at length, by a desperate exertion, he said—