"'Tis well! But suppose that I should tell you that I once loved another than you?" "As you love me?" "No; with a boyish affection, soon forgotten." "Then I would care nothing for it." "Not if it left an incurable wound?" "Did it?" "It did!" "My God! How have I been deceived." "Don't be alarmed, my dear, the wound was not in the heart--it was in pride." "How?" "I was not troubled at heart, but the girl I fancied gave me mortal offense, and I would be revenged!" "How so? What is this? Don't love, and wish revenge! Revenge for what? And that dark frown--what means all this?" "Be calm; you are excited; you fear my truth; and where there is no confidence, love soon departs. I can soon explain all. In my young days I fell in love with a beautiful girl of my own age; but soon learned that she was not virtuous, and with this knowledge my love changed into desire. As the least return for my love, to gain which she had recourse to all the wiles and blandishments of a coquette, I wished to possess her for a time; but she spurned me from her presence as she would a dog! From that hour I have sworn to have my revenge and gain my point. My hour has now come, and I can accomplish my oath, provided I am secure of one thing." "And what is that?" "Your co-operation." "Me aid in such a scheme!" "Why not?" "_Why not?_ Shall I turn the enemy of my own sex, and aid in the destruction of one who has never injured me?" "She _has_ injured you." "In what way?" "By destroying, in a good degree, my confidence in the sex. Had that confidence been unshaken, you would, long ere this time, have been my wife; but how could I trust my happiness with woman when woman had proved treacherous? I had been once deceived, and distrust had taken the place of faith, when I met you. You know the result. Now tell me, has not this girl injured you deeply?" "It may be so; but why not let her go? What good can it do to pursue her with vengeance? Perhaps she has repented. How wicked, then, to destroy her peace of mind." "Dream not that such as she will ever repent. But to satisfy you on this point, I can say, _I know she has not changed from what she was_; and it is this knowledge that, above all things, urges me on in my plans." "Well, what do you wish me to do?" "Listen. I have just learned that this girl, in company with her family, will be in town to-day, on their way to Ohio or Kentucky, and will put up at this house. Now I wish you to so place the young lady, that I can have access to her sleeping apartment; this is all." "I cannot do it." "You can; I will take number eighteen for the night; put her in seventeen, and it is all I ask. I am sure this is easily done." "And thus bring about my own shame and her dishonor?" "I tell you she is already dishonored; and instead of bringing shame upon yourself, you take it away forever." "Do not tempt me to do wrong! Alas, I have done too much evil already! I pray God I may be forgiven!"