"Yes, dear Miles; but promise you will not fly in a passion: you do not know how you terrify me in doing so. Hear all I have to say, and then let us, as calmly as may be, consult what is to be done." He could not speak; he was like one fluttering between life and death. She did not wait, however, for him to do so, but hurriedly told him the events of the morning; so anxious was she to say all, that she scarcely noticed his extraordinary silence. When she paused, he quietly drew his hands from hers, and still keeping his fixed gaze upon her, though the countenance had changed with every word of hers, still the eye had not one instant quitted her face. Withdrawing his hands, he placed them both on her shoulders as she knelt before him, and said in a low, measured tone, "Minnie, I know all you have told me; I followed you to-day. It may seem mean, unmanly, my doing so; but I was resolved to prove you--I knew all!" "Knew all!" she ejaculated, shrinking back from his touch, as if it pained her. "Why do you shrink from me, Minnie?" "Because," she said, rising slowly to her feet, "you then have done it yourself, doubting, to prove me!" "No, by heavens, I have not! Kneel down again, Minnie;" and he drew her reluctantly before him again. "Look upon me, Minnie, for I am your judge now, to hear, but not condemn. You have forced that character upon me; I came, fully determined to say nothing, to close my heart to proof and conviction, to bear all my wrongs, if such they were, and seek no elucidation, leaving all to time to prove you whatever you might be!" "Oh, Miles--Miles!" she cried, looking up trembling in his face; "and can you suspect me still? And could you live with me a day, believing me so false to you?" "Listen--I have passed three hours of the bitterest anguish man ever suffered--a thousand mad thoughts and resolutions passing through my brain; and at last I came to the determination which you know, for I, mere man, cannot fathom this affair. I would not for all the world condemn you; for though not a man prone to superstitious thoughts, I feel there must be some demoniacal power in all this, Minnie," and he raised her face upwards in his hands. "You are either the falsest woman that ever drew breath--and if so, the breath which gives you life must be the vapour of hell, from whence you draw it; or else there is a power around us which we cannot combat with, and 'tis best to still the heart's beatings, to subdue ourselves to callousness, and wait for time! I am resolved _to bear_ and wait. Now, sit beside me here," and he rose and drew her to the ottoman calmly and composedly, "and shew me the letter you received." She was so lost in terror at his extraordinary manner, that it was in vain she essayed to utter a word; in cold silence she placed the letter in his hand; he opened, and silently read it through, and over again.