"Oh, forgive me, brother."
"Say no more of it, Flora. Heed it not. It may be possible—in fact, it may well be supposed as more than probable—that the relative of Charles Holland may shrink from sanctioning the alliance, but do you rest securely in the possession of the heart which I feel convinced is wholly yours, and which, I am sure, would break ere it surrendered you."
A smile of joy came across Flora's pale but beautiful face, as she cried,—
"And you, dear brother—you think so much of Charles's faith?"
"As Heaven is my judge, I do."
"Then I will bear up with what strength God may give me against all things that seek to depress me; I will not be conquered."
"You are right, Flora; I rejoice to find in you such a disposition. Here is some manuscript which Charles thinks will amuse you, and he bade me ask you if you would be introduced to his uncle."
"Yes, yes—willingly."
"I will tell him so; I know he wishes it, and I will tell him so. Be patient, dear Flora, and all may yet be well."
"But, brother, on your sacred word, tell me do you not think this Sir Francis Varney is the vampyre?"