The sound of his voice seemed to act as the most potent of charms in restoring her to consciousness; it broke through the death-like trance in which she lay, and, opening her beautiful eyes, she fixed them upon his face, saying,—
"Yes, yes; it is Charles—it is Charles."
She burst into a hysterical flood of tears, and clung to him like some terrified child to its only friend in the whole wide world.
"Oh, my dear friends," cried Charles Holland, "do not deceive me; has Flora been ill?"
"We have all been ill," said George.
"All ill?"
"Ay, and nearly mad," exclaimed Harry.
Holland looked from one to the other in surprise, as well he might, nor was that surprise at all lessened when Flora made an effort to extricate herself from his embrace, as she exclaimed,—
"You must leave me—you must leave me, Charles, for ever! Oh! never, never look upon my face again!"
"I—I am bewildered," said Charles.