No county prisoner--for they had their prison pride--liked to be looked upon as a “county bird,” so he showed himself in front as long as he could. The back part, thus, as we have said, had few persons promenading its precincts at the hours named.
Flora and Hal were, in consequence, comparatively alone in their walk.
As they strolled on, both seemed full of thought; after a silence, which endured for a short time, a few remarks were made, but of no personal nature; at length Hal ventured to say to her--
“Can it be possible, my dear Miss Wilton, that your father is not labouring under a delusion in speaking of his immediate liberation?”
Somehow Flora had expected this question, yet she had not prepared an answer to it. She paused for a moment, then replied--
“From the moment my dear father was seized as a prisoner, until now, the whole affair has been inexplicable to me. I believe you know even more of his affairs than I do. What can I answer? the matter of his conversation seems to me to be visionary, yet I never remember him to be so clear in his delivery, nor so elated, without being incoherent.”
“That may only be a sign of the disease which may have fastened itself upon him, following the terrible agony of grief he has had to endure.”
“Oh, Mr. Vivian, in mercy do not say so--pray do not! I do not think he is deranged--do you not remember that when he said to me he was not mad, how coherently he spoke? I entreat you, Mr. Vivian, not to say you think his mind is gone; if you do, I shall believe you.”
Hal saw the tears spring into her eyes, and he blamed himself for having brought them there, especially when she said--
“It will so much add to the grief I have already suffered.”
“I would not add to it for the world, Miss Wilton,” he said hastily, and added thoughtfully, “it may have been selfishness which has led me to form the supposition, but I would willingly, though not cheerfully, abandon it if I thought, by so doing, you would be spared one painful emotion.”
“Not cheerfully,” said Flora with innocent surprise, “why with reluctance, Mr. Vivian?”
“Not reluctance, Miss Wilton, that is not the word--sorrow is the truer term.”
“I do not understand you; I am, I suppose, very dull; but, Mr. Vivian, is it possible that you could be sorry to find my father not insane?” she inquired, with some earnestness.