Maria, pale and exhausted with the fatigues and excitements of the day, sits in her solitary chamber, fearing lest each footstep she hears advancing, may be that of her enemies, or hoping that it may announce the coming of her lover and rescuer. “You are richer than me!” still tinkles its silvery music in her ear, and brings comfort to her agitated heart. The clock strikes ten, and suddenly her room is entered by Keepum and Snivel. The former, with an insinuating leer, draws a chair near her, while the latter, doffing his coat, flings himself upon the cot. Neither speak for some minutes; but Maria reads in their looks and actions the studied villany they have at heart. “Inconsistency adorned!” exclaims Keepum, drawing his chair a little nearer. “Now, I say, you have stuck stubbornly to this ere folly.” Mr. Keepum’s sharp, red face, comes redder, and his small, wicked eyes flash like orbs of fire. “Better come down off that high horse-live like a lady. The devil’s got Tom, long ago.” “So you have said before, Mr. Keepum,” rejoins Maria, turning upon him a look of disdain. “You may persecute me to the death; you may continue to trample me into the dust; but only with my death shall your lust be gratified on me!” This declaration is made with an air of firmness Mr. Keepum seems to understand. “D-n it,” rejoins Mr. Snivel, with a sardonic laugh, “these folks are affecting to be something.” Maria raises her right hand, and motions Mr. Keepum away. It does indeed seem to her that the moment when nature in her last struggle unbends before the destroyer-when the treasure of a life passes away to give place to dark regrets and future remorse, is come. Let us pause here for a moment, and turn to another part of the city.