“I am sorry, love, that our thoughts did not happen to run in the same channel, very sorry. I made a sale of the horse and dogs to Gardiner Green, this morning, while you were taking your last ride with them, and to-night, after you came home, I sent them over to his farm by Tarquinius.” “NO!” exclaimed Hagar, starting violently. He held her tightly, gently compressing his arm about her waist, and replied, softly, “Yes, love—nay, do not start and struggle, I cannot spare you, yet—yes, love, they are sold.” “_My_ horse!—_mine?_—_my own!_—my dear Starlight!—and my dogs—and without my leave!” “Come, come!—come, come! be still, Hagar, no phrensy,” said he, smilingly, tauntingly caressing her, while a gentle, cruel strength struck out from the pressure of the soft arms that held her in a fast embrace; “if your eagle flaps its wings and beats its cage so violently, I am afraid clipping its pinions and claws will not be enough—I am afraid I shall have to crush it altogether,” said he, looking down into her eyes. She ceased to struggle, and dropped her hands clasped upon her lap—dropped her head upon her chest, while the color all faded from her cheeks, and the light from her eyes. “Hagar!” “Well!” “What is the matter, love?” “_What you please_ shall be the matter!” exclaimed she, laughing bitterly, while light and color suddenly flashed back into her sparkling face. “Come, love, you are a spirited little thing, but you will be docile by and by, and then—” “I wish you joy of your automaton!” CHAPTER XXIV. THE FORSAKEN HOUSE. “Gloom is upon thy lonely hearth, Oh, silent house! once filled with mirth, Sorrow is in the breezy sound Of thy tall poplars whispering round.” HEMANS.