“I hardly understand it myself. I may have been on the eve of witnessing one of the most appalling crimes that ever was perpetrated! one of the most tremendous misfortunes that could befall our country!” exclaimed Erminie, shaking violently with agitation at the bare memory of the threats in the President’s anteroom. “Compose yourself, my dear; and, in order to do so, avoid using strong language, which only excites you,” said the clergyman, laying his hand solemnly on the bowed head of the girl. “But you see I cannot recur to it without horror.” “Is it necessary to recur to it at all, my child.” “Oh, yes, else I had not sent for you. I have a solemn duty to perform in the matter, and do not see clearly how to do it. And I want your counsel.” “Then tell me all about it, my dear. Come, now, quietly like a Christian child,” said the clergyman, in a soothing manner, and speaking with much more calmness than he really felt, for the words of Erminie had surprised and alarmed him. Erminie made a great effort to control her agitation, and then began to tell him of the visit of Alberta Corsoni. And Dr. Sales put a constraint upon himself, and listened composedly, without making a single comment upon the narrative, lest he might increase the excitement under which his companion was laboring. Erminie faithfully related all that had occurred—the visit to the President’s house, the muttered threats of the guerrilla’s wife, “_I will have my husband pardoned, or do that which shall place me on the scaffold by his side_,” her own alarm at hearing these awful words, the difficulty with which she got the desperate woman out of the White House, the subsequent apology made by the woman for her wicked threats, the paragraph relating to the escape of Vittorio Corsoni, the excessive joy of Alberta, and her secret flight from the house. “Now,” said Erminie, in conclusion, “Alberta’s apology for her sinful threats seemed very earnest and might have been quite sincere, and but for her gloomy looks, and muttered threats and strange behavior, I should have received it without a doubt.” The clergyman slowly shook his head, but made no remark. “My mind has been distracted with grief and perplexity,” continued Erminie; “for on the one hand it seems beyond measure cruel and treacherous to lodge information against a poor, unfortunate woman who has sought the refuge of my home, who may be quite innocent of any wrong intention, and who may suffer great injustice from a mere suspicion. And on the other hand, the probability of her insanity, and the bare possibility of such an atrocious—oh, I cannot speak the word! But you see I feel as if I dare not withhold this information from the authorities,” exclaimed Erminie, shuddering.