"Revenge! It was for my revenge I hung upon your track, showed myself to you at all times and in all places, letting you know that the destroyer was at hand, so that you might go home and blast _his_ happiness by your broken spirits and shattered nerves. I have seen it work; I see it now, in your quivering lip and emaciated hands. Where are the holiday roses now--the exulting lover--the secret blisses?" Here, then, was poor Astræa's secret! The monster had been upon her steps wherever we went; and, as I afterward learned, used to start up suddenly before her in her solitary walks, to terrify her with threats of sleepless vengeance, knowing that her fear of consequences would prevent her from revealing to me the persecution under which she was sinking. This ghastly pursuit of us (to which we were also indebted for the scorn and obloquy we suffered) had gradually broken up Astræa's health, and made the strong mind almost weak and superstitious. But I must hasten on. "And this," cried Astræa, "is the generosity I was to have received at your hands--this the magnanimity your friend gave you credit for!" "There was a condition to my magnanimity which you have forgotten. Had you fulfilled that condition, I would have poured out my heart's blood at your feet, could it have made you more secure and happy. Why did you not forsake him, and trust to my generosity? No; you clung to him. You maddened me, and left me nothing but--revenge. Did you suppose he could escape me? I have no other life but this--to follow you as the executioner follows the condemned to the scaffold, and make _his_ life a curse to _him_, as he has made _mine_ to _me_. There's justice in that--call it cruel, if you please; 'tis just--just--just!" "'Tis monstrous, and will draw down the punishment of Heaven on your head."