“And you have no right to express it _now_! sir,” exclaimed the mad girl, with the fire flaming in her eyes. “No right to express it _now_! _what_ right have you _now_, more than you ever had over me? None that I acknowledge! None that I will bear to have you assume! None, Raymond! _none!_ All love! all compliance that I yield you now I would have yielded you before! and you know it! you know it! of my own free will! of my own glorious free will!—not from constraint! God in Heaven! you exasperate—you madden me—by attempts at constraint! Raymond! what do you mean by this? I do not like it. No! I will turn away, I will not look at your cold, spirit-killing eyes. I will not let your cold, damping, implacable will extinguish my life and soul as the rain puts out the fire. _I_ have a will! and tastes, and habits, and propensities! and loves and hates! yes, and conscience! that all go to make up the sum total of a separate individuality! a distinct life! for which _I alone_ am accountable, and _only_ to God! How weak and worthless would my obedience to God be if it were fettered through a submission to _any_ lower will. No, I will _not_ bear to have you assume any right over my freedom of action, and I shall take my favorites with me to the North.” A sarcastic smile fluttered around the beautiful lips and gleamed under the golden eye-lashes of Raymond Withers as he slightly raised his hat from his head with a mock bow, and sauntered away from her side, quoting for her benefit the very last clause of Genesis iii. and 16. It only needed his sarcasm to exasperate the girl to phrensy. She snapped and ground her teeth together, and stamped with both little feet, springing to the ground as though they would take root there—while anger rocked and flamed to and fro in her bosom like a sea of fire lashing its shores. Suddenly—veiling her flashing eyes and setting her gleaming teeth with a look of resolution, she went to the stables and calling Tarquinius, bade him saddle Starlight. “We will have another day together, my old friends,” said she, as the horse neighed joyously, and the dogs bounded around her each in intelligent anticipation; and in ten minutes from this Hagar was flying over the heath towards the forest attended by her favorites. The sun was setting in golden glory as Hagar rode into the yard at Heath Hall, sprang from her horse, and throwing the reins to Tarquinius walked leisurely towards the house, smiled and bowed salutation to the company assembled to enjoy the evening air in the piazza, and passed on into the Hall—Sophie followed her, and with the tears welling up to her eyes exclaimed, “Oh! Hagar, what have you done?” Hagar threw up her little glittering head of ringlets and replied with laughing defiance, “I have been taking one of my old days among the hills! I wished to feel my freedom a little, that is all! I have been galled by the too close pressure of my chains lately, and have broken them through for once, that’s all.”