"Would you believe it, doctor, that he forced himself into the house--nay, into this room--last night, and would have carried off my daughter, in spite of her resistance, if I had not prevented him." "I can believe anything of him," replied Hodges.

"But your husband, of course, knows nothing of the matter ?" "Not as yet," replied Mrs.Bloundel; "but I authorize you to tell him all." "Mother, dear mother," cried Amabel, flinging herself on her knees before her, "I implore you not to add to my father's present distress.

I might not have been able to conquer my attachment to Maurice Wyvil, but now that I find he is the Earl of Rochester, I regard him with abhorrence." "If I could believe you sincere," said Mrs.Bloundel, "I might be induced to spare your father the pain which the knowledge of this unfortunate affair would necessarily inflict." "I am sincere,--indeed I am," replied Amabel.
"To prove that the earl could not have had honourable intentions towards you, Amabel," said the doctor, "I may mention that he is at this moment urging his suit with Mistress Mallet,--a young heiress." "Ah!" exclaimed Amabel." "I was in attendance upon Mistress Stewart, the king's present favourite, the day before yesterday," continued Hodges, "and heard his majesty entreat her to use her influence with Mistress Mallet in Rochester's behalf.

After this, you cannot doubt the nature of his intentions towards yourself." "I cannot--I cannot," rejoined Amabel.

"He is perfidy itself.