"Leave me, now," continued Flora; "think me unworthy; think what you will, Charles, but I cannot, I dare not, now be yours."
"Is this a dream?"
"Oh, would it were. Charles, if we had never met, you would be happier—I could not be more wretched."
"Flora, Flora, do you say these words of so great cruelty to try my love?"
"No, as Heaven is my judge, I do not."
"Gracious Heaven, then, what do they mean?"
Flora shuddered, and Henry, coming up to her, took her hand in his tenderly, as he said,—
"Has it been again?"
"It has."
"You shot it?"