"Where am I?" she cried, starting up wildly--"how came I here--what has happened? Ah, now I remember--or was it some dreadful dream?" She pressed her hand to her forehead--"no, no, it was no dream--tell me," she added, with a convulsive shudder, closing her eyes as if to shut out some horrible vision, "is he dead--is Perozzi dead?" "Compose yourself, my dear Mildred," replied Mrs. Donaldson, "he lives--fortunately the ball but slightly grazed his temple--yet, my child, such is his despair--to such a state of frenzy has your cruelty brought him, that we dare not trust him alone even for a moment, lest he once more attempt to end his misery by self-destruction." A heart-rending groan was the poor girl's only answer. "Mildred, my daughter," said Mr. Donaldson, "I had decided to say no more to you upon a subject so painful, but duty to my friend compels me to make one more appeal to your compassion. Can I stand calmly by and witness the wreck which despair has wrought in that beloved friend--can I behold him resolutely rushing upon death to end his misery and not speak! O, Mildred," falling on his knees, "save him--for you can--Mildred, behold me thus imploring your pity for Perozzi!" Mildred burst into tears, and placed her hand within that of Mr. Donaldson. "You will relent, my sweet child, will you not?" said her mother, throwing her arms around her--"yes, you will, and make us all happy--see," she added, drawing a letter from her bosom, "here is a letter from my beloved father--let his words plead with ours--shall I read?" Mildred assented, and breaking the seal Mrs. Donaldson continued: "MILDRED,--You have refused compliance with the fondest wish of my heart--you have obstinately cast from you the man of all others I wished to see your husband! Henceforth I renounce you. I loved you, my child, (as I now for the last time call you,) I have loved you from your infancy--to you I looked as my greatest earthly blessing--but it is all over--we never meet again! Yet, cruel, ungrateful girl, I will not doom you to a life of hardship and dependence. The fortune settled upon you is still yours. Take it, Mildred, and enjoy it if you can, knowing that you have broken the heart of your old doting grandfather, Archibald Dundass." As Mrs. Donaldson concluded, Mildred sobbed aloud. These reproaches, mingled with so much kindness, almost broke her heart. "Give me the letter," said she, extending her trembling hand, and once more she tearfully perused it, while a glance of triumph was exchanged between husband and wife. The look of agony which Mildred cast upon them as she finished reading would have melted a heart of stone. Mrs. Donaldson burst into tears, and even the lip of her husband quivered with agitation.