Arthur hailed this symptom of sensibility as a favorable omen. He had never intended to inform the jailer of Clinton's escape. He would not be instrumental to such an event himself, knowing, as he did, his guilt, but since it had been effected by another, he could not help rejoicing in heart. Perhaps Clinton might profit by this bitter lesson, and "reformation glittering over his faults"--efface by its lustre the dark stain upon his name. And while he condemned the rashness and mourned for the misguided feelings of Mittie, he could not repress an involuntary thrill of admiration for her deep, self-sacrificing love. What a pity that a passion so sublime in its strength and despair should be inspired by a being so unworthy. "Will you not let me pass?" said he. "Never, for such a purpose." "I disclaim it altogether, I never intended to put in execution the threat I breathed. It was to induce you to leave this horrible place that I uttered it. I am ashamed of the subterfuge, though the motive was pure. Mittie, I entreat you to come with me; I entreat you with the sincerity of a friend, the earnestness of a brother. I will never breathe to a human being the mystery of Clinton's escape. I will guard your reputation with the most jealous vigilance. Not even my blind Alice shall be considered a more sacred trust than you, if you confide yourself to my protecting care." "Are you indeed my friend?" she asked, in a softened voice, with a remarkable change in the expression of her countenance. "I thought you hated me." "Hated you! What a suspicion!" "You have always been cold and distant--never sought my friendship, or manifested for me the least regard. When I was but a child, and you first visited our family, I was attracted towards you, less by your gentle manners than your strong, controlling will. Had you shown as much interest in me as you did in Helen, you might have had a wondrous influence on my character. You might have saved me from that which is destroying me. But it is all past. You slighted me, and lavished all your care on Helen. Every one cared for Helen more than me, and my heart grew colder and colder to her and all who loved her. What I have since felt, and why I have felt it for others, God only knows. Others! Why should I say others? There never was but one--and that one, the false felon, whom I once believed an angel of light. And he, even he has thrown my heart back bleeding at my feet, for the love he bears to Helen." "Which Helen values not," said the young doctor, half in assertion and half in interrogation. "No, no," she replied, "a counter influence has saved her from the misery and shame." Mittie paused, clasped her hands together, and pressed them tightly on her bosom. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "it is no metaphor, when they talk of arrows piercing the breast. I feel them here." Her countenance expressed physical suffering as well as mental agony. She shivered with cold one moment, the next glowed with feverish heat.