"The old man takes it hard." It was a very extraordinary thing for Mr. Mandeville to express his thoughts aloud, but he did so on this occasion, and Duffel heard his comments on the letters, and his execration of the writer, as also his reflections upon his daughter's conduct; then there was a crumpling sound like that of paper, as though the sheets were crushed in the hand of the reader. All this was music to the crime-stained soul of the guilty listener, who exulted in the success of his scheme, and felt additional assurance of ultimately triumphing in all his undertakings. But when the spirit-bowed father, in his hopeless agony, called down the curse upon the head of the author of the wrong, and appealed to Heaven for vengeance, the villain cowered as if truly smitten with a bolt; and the bare thought that the fate prayed for _might_ be his, sent a cold chill to his heart and forced out great drops of perspiration on his brow. He trembled in every limb, like one in an ague fit, and it was some seconds before he could regain command of his faculties. At last he felt something like himself again, and not wishing to hear anything more of the same kind, he knocked at the door, and the next minute stood face to face with Mr. Mandeville. Black as his corrupt heart had become, he could not look unmoved upon that countenance, and behold the ravages made in a short hour by the pains of soul _he_ had inflicted. "Are you sick, Mr. Mandeville?" was his first inquiry. "No, sir; but worse, much worse than sick." "Indeed! How is that?" "Eveline is gone!" "Gone?" "Yes, gone forever!" "What!" and the miscreant evinced the utmost surprise and astonishment. "You do not mean to say she is dead?" "No, no! Would to God she was! I would a thousand times rather have followed her to the grave! But read, read, and know for yourself what has happened." Saying which, he placed the letters in the hypocrite's hands, and then, while he was reading them, buried his face in his own hands, and sat in mute but agonized grief. Duffel read the letters with secret delight, repeating to himself at every particular place where it suited him best, "Glorious!" and at the close of all, "I must reward Bill for this. He's a perfect gem of a devil for such work." But to Mandeville, in well-feigned amazement, he exclaimed: "Charles Hadley!" "Yes," said the afflicted parent, lifting his bowed head, "of all the world, _him_! a criminal and vagabond, who had fled from justice to hide himself from the face of man! Oh, my God! to think that she would forsake home, friends, a good name, and trample upon a parent's love for such a villain!" "Perhaps it is not yet too late to save her?" suggested Duffel. "How? what?" ejaculated the other, catching at the words as a drowning man would at a straw. "I say it may be possible that the marriage-rites have not yet been performed. This may be written for a blind to prevent pursuit."