‘You have a letter for me, young lady, I believe,’ faltered Abel in a voice hollow and broken by emotion.
‘I have, sir,’ she replied, giving it to him.
Abel looked at the address, and another sharp convulsion passed over his frame. He, however, controlled himself by a powerful effort, and broke the seal. The perusal of the letter seemed to affect him deeply, for, staggering to his chair, he sank into it, and covering his face with his hands, wept aloud. It was some minutes before he arose. Hilda, who had watched him with much concern, was surprised to see how calm he looked. He had, indeed, regained the mastery he usually held over his feelings. ‘Pray be seated, young lady,’ he said, handing her a chair. ‘I would have shunned this interview if it had been in my power, but as it has been brought about, I will not shrink from it. How can I serve you?’
Hilda then proceeded to explain the object of her visit. Abel listened to her recital with a quivering lip and flashing eye, and at its close got up, and took a quick turn round the room.
‘This is only what might be expected from him—scoundrel!’ he ejaculated. ‘Sell his daughter!—but that is nothing—he would sell his soul for gold! I beg your pardon, young lady,’ he added, checking himself, as he saw the pain his exclamations occasioned her, ‘but if you knew the deep and irremediable injury inflicted on me by your father, you would pardon this outbreak of passion. He has sacrificed others without scruple, but he shall not sacrifice you. You may count on my assistance, my protection, if you choose to confide in me.’
‘I have my mother’s injunction to confide in you, sir,’ she replied.
‘Your mother!’ exclaimed Abel, in a voice of agony. ‘Oh, Hilda! what a fearful spell is there in that word!—what a host of feelings does it not summon up! I see your mother again as I remember her in her youth—beautiful as you are, more beautiful, if possible—certainly more blooming. I hear the music of her voice as I listen to yours; I feel again the charm inspired by her presence. You shall learn my history one of these days, and you will then know why your mother addressed this letter to me—why it affects me thus.’
‘I can partly guess the cause,’ returned Hilda mournfully; ‘but be it what it may, it is plain she felt she had a strong hold on your affections, and that she thought she could rely on you, when she could rely on no one else.’
‘If she thought so, she judged rightly,’ replied Abel. ‘I consider her request as a sacred injunction, and will strive to comply with it. And now,’ he added, changing his tone, ‘I must tell you that your name has been brought before me of late. My nephew, Randulph Crew, who visited your father the other night, has spoken of you.’ Hilda slightly coloured. ‘He will much regret not being at home this morning,’ pursued Abel, ‘as he might have had an opportunity of further cultivating his acquaintance with you. But he is gone out with my brother.’
‘I hope it will not offend you to say I am glad of it,’ replied Hilda; ‘I would not willingly have met him.’