doubtful, perhaps impossible; the second, she had resolved upon. Even if I were to hold back on the brink of the precipice, it would not shake her determination. In this extremity and in the last resort, I felt myself bound to her by every consideration of love and honor. Honor! When that element enters into our casuistry, the peril is at its height! "Have you never endeavored to release yourself from this contract?" I inquired. "He would not release me." "Have you explicitly demanded it of him, so that you should have the satisfaction of feeling that you had tried all other means before you broke the bond yourself?" "I have demanded and besought it of him--prayed to him--appealed to him, by his soul's hopes here and hereafter, to release me. I have laid my own perdition on his refusal--and he still refused. I gave up all; offered to leave England forever; to give him security that, be my fate what it might, neither he nor his should be troubled with me. To no purpose--he was iron. He could have procured a separation, which I could not. I gave him the means, and would have borne any humiliation to obtain my freedom. He would not release me; he held me bound, that he might gloat his vengeance upon my sufferings." "And this man--this fiend--you have not told me, Astræa, who he is." While I was speaking, I observed her looking keenly through the mist that was collecting about us. Some object had attracted her attention. My eyes followed the direction hers had taken, and I discerned a figure, apparently wrapped up in a cloak, about the centre of the bridge, on the near side. We watched it in silence for a space of two or three minutes, when it moved slowly from its position, and winding down among the trees, took the path that led directly to the spot where we were seated. She grasped my arm, and cried in a whisper-- "Stand firm. Speak not. It is my deed, not yours. The hour I have looked for through long years of anguish is come at last. Fear nothing for me!" The figure approached, still enveloped in a cloak, and stood exactly opposite to us. For a moment--the most intense I ever remember--not a word was uttered. At last, the stranger spoke. "It is, then, as I expected. I have tracked you to your hiding-place, and I find you with your paramour." It was the voice of the dwarf! The blood leaped in my veins, and, hardly conscious of what I was doing, or meant to do, I sprang from my seat. Astræa rose at the same moment, and interposed. "If you have the least regard or respect for me," she said, "do not interfere. For my sake, control yourself." "For _your_ sake!" echoed the dwarf. "Do you glory in _his_ shame, as well as your own?" "Shame!" cried Astræa. "Take back the foul word, and begone. You have no authority, no rights here. The shame is yours, not mine--yours, unmanly, pitiful, and mean, who have taken advantage of a contract wrung from a girl to doom the life of a woman to misery."