“What motive can you have,” said he to Mrs. Torrance one day, “for deferring our happiness? You are too generous to allow so untoward an event as my daughter’s flight to influence your decision. Add not to the affliction of that blow, by cold procrastination. Speak, madam, have my misfortunes lost me your affection?” “No, major,” replied the lady, “but I fear your faults have lessened it. Where is the American lady?” “At home,” said he earnestly, “at home, with her husband. I, myself, placed her on board a packet bound to New York.” The lady regarded the utterer of this bold falsehood with ineffable contempt, and stepping into the middle of the room, she threw open a folding door, and pointed to Mrs. Anson, who was reclining on an ottoman. “Are there devils in league against me?” muttered Derode, “how came that wretched woman here, madam?—she is a maniac—but I will convey her to an asylum, whence she shall not escape,” and he was advancing toward her. “Stay,” exclaimed Mrs. Torrance, restraining him, “that lady is under the protection of my roof, and she leaves it only with her own free will.” “By heavens! madam,” said he, “she quits not my sight till I consign her to a mad house;” and, forgetting every thing in his wrath, he roughly removed the lady from before him, as the door abruptly opened, and a tall, stern looking man stood before him. The intruder was dressed in strict conformity with the fashion of the day, and, on removing his hat, he exhibited a forehead of high intelligence, but two or three strong lines were drawn across it; two deep furrows also descended between his heavy brows, giving, to his otherwise agreeable features, a fierce, if not a ferocious expression. His dark eyes, deeply set in his head, flashed with the fierceness, and yet fascination, of a serpent’s orbs, ere he makes his deadly spring. The stranger expanded his lofty figure, and throwing forward his ample chest, he crossed his arms upon it, and gazed intently on Derode. The major turned from his burning gaze, and advancing to the couch where lay the invalid, said, in a harsh voice, “rise, madam, and follow me,” at the same time laying his hand on her shoulder. Three strides brought the stranger to the spot, and seizing Derode, he whirled him against the opposite wall with the strength of a giant, exclaiming, “let your victim die in peace!” The expiring woman raised herself with her last collected strength, and articulating, “_my husband!_” sank back in a swoon. The moment Derode became aware of the relation in which the stranger stood to the fainting woman, he made an attempt to reach the door, but was intercepted by Anson. “Stay,” said the latter, “you stir not hence. Stay, and behold the consummation of your villainy. See! she breathes again. Let her curse you and expire!”