Henry found Flora in her chamber. She was in deep thought when he tapped at the door of the room, and such was the state of nervous excitement in which she was that even the demand for admission made by him to the room was sufficient to produce from her a sudden cry of alarm.
"Who--who is there?" she then said, in accents full of terror.
"'Tis I, dear Flora," said Henry.
She opened the door in an instant, and, with a feeling of grateful relief, exclaimed-"Oh, Henry, is it only you?"
"Who did you suppose it was, Flora?"
She shuddered.
"I--I--do not know; but I am so foolish now, and so weak-spirited, that the slightest noise is enough to alarm me."
"You must, dear Flora, fight up, as I had hoped you were doing, against this nervousness."
"I will endeavour. Did not some strangers come a short time since, brother?"
"Strangers to us, Flora, but not to Charles Holland. A relative of his--an uncle whom he much respects, has found him out here, and has now come to see him."
"And to advise him," said Flora, as she sunk into a chair, and wept bitterly; "to advise him, of course, to desert, as he would a pestilence, a vampyre bride."
"Hush, hush! for the sake of Heaven, never make use of such a phrase, Flora. You know not what a pang it brings to my heart to hear you."
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