"Nay, dearest," continued he, "deny me not—it is a small request. Fear nothing—never shall danger fall upon any connected with you through me. I will swear to you——"
"Swear not!" interrupted Fanny—"I dare not!—no!—no!" and she again sighed.
He pressed her hand more closely within his. A breathless silence followed, and a tear glistened in his eyes. Her bosom heaved—her countenance bespoke the struggle that warred in her breast.
"Do I look as one who would betray your friends—if they be your friends?" said he, with emotion.
"No," she faltered, and her head fell on her bosom.
He placed his hand across her shoulders—it touched the riband by which the deep folds of the veil were fastened over her head—it was the impulse of a moment—he unloosed it, the veil fell upon the floor, and the flaxen locks and the lovely features of Fanny Teasdale were revealed. Augustus started in admiration; for weeks he had conjured up phantoms of ideal beauty, but the fair face before him exceeded them all. She blushed—her countenance bespoke anxiety rather than anger—tears fell down her cheeks, and he kissed them away. He sat, silently gazing on her features, drawing happiness from her eyes.
Again ten days had passed, and, during each of them, Fanny, in the absence of her father, sat unveiled by his side. Still he knew not her name, and, when he entreated her to pronounce it, she wept, and replied, "I dare not."
He had told her his. "Call me your Augustus," said he, "and tell me by what name I shall call you, my own. Come, dearest, do you doubt me still? Do you still think me capable of the part of an informer?"
But she wept the more, for she knew that to tell her name was to make known her father's also—to betray him, and to place his life in jeopardy. He urged her yet more earnestly, and he had sunk upon his knee, and was pressing her hand to his lips, when Harry, in the disguise in which he had always seen him, entered the room. The smuggler started back.
"What!" cried he, sternly, "what hast thou done, girl?—shown thy face and betrayed me?—and told thy name, and mine, too, I suppose?"