after a moment's reflection--detected the glimmer of a white
dress in the distance, through the shrubs and flowers--advanced
to get a nearer view of the lady--and burst into Clara's presence
with a cry of delight.

She sprang to her feet. She stood before him speechless,
motionless, struck to stone. All her life was in her eyes--the
eyes which told her she was looking at Richard Wardour.

He was the first to speak.

"I am sorry I startled you, my darling. I forgot everything but
the happiness of seeing you again. We only reached our moorings
two hours since. I was some time inquiring after you, and some
time getting my ticket when they told me you were at the ball.
Wish me joy, Clara! I am promoted. I have come back to make you
my wife."

A momentary change passed over the blank terror of her face. Her
color rose faintly, her lips moved. She abruptly put a question
to him.

"Did you get my letter?"

He started. "A letter from you? I never received it."

The momentary animation died out of her face again. She drew back
from him and dropped into a chair. He advanced toward her,
astonished and alarmed. She shrank in the chair--shrank, as if
she was frightened of him.