“Come! Miss Churchill, come! This will not do—this fickleness and unfaithfulness on your part will not answer; I cannot permit it. I thought the footing we stood upon in relation to each other well understood; you certainly could _not_ have misinterpreted the meaning of my visits here; no one else has misconceived them. Mrs. Gardiner Green inquired of me to-day when our marriage was to come off. I told her that it would take place some time this month, that I would apprise her of the exact day to-morrow. It is for the purpose of ascertaining your day that I have called this evening. Come, Sophie, satisfy me upon this point.” “I cannot! I cannot! God _knows_ I cannot! Oh! _Why_ do you persist in this? Why! why love a girl who is in no respect, of age, mind, education, or wealth, your equal?” “Fiddlestick! have I said I loved you? No, Sophie, thank God I have never yet been, never, I trust, shall be, under the influence of that most weak and puerile passion.” “Then, in the name of reason and of mercy, why seek to marry a girl whom you do not love, and who hates—no, does not _hate_, but who fears and recoils from you?” “Precisely because she _does_ fear and recoil from me!” “I will not marry you, then! I will not marry you then! please God to give me strength. Surely I am a free girl; no one has a right, or will attempt, or could succeed in forcing my inclinations. Come, I will be firm, and nothing can compel me!” “But destiny. You are in a net of circumstances from whence there is no escape, Sophie Churchill. Do not struggle, you will lacerate your limbs and waste your strength only to entangle yourself the more.” Again silence ensued. Sophie continued from time to time to try to extricate herself from his grasp, each attempt but serving to rivet his arm about her waist—at last he said— “The embrace of my arm is an emblem of the surrounding of your fate; you can as easily escape the one as the other.” Sophie burst into tears, and wept long and freely. He did not attempt to soothe or even to speak to her. At last her fit of grief and terror exhausted itself, and she became calm. Then she said— “Oh, I might have guessed all this sorrow from the first time I ever met your eye!” “Flattering again!” The clock struck. Sophie struggled. “Mr. Withers, it is ten o’clock.” “Well, Miss Churchill, I only wait my answer to return home.” “I have given you the only one I can give—take it again. I cannot give myself to you.” “Then I can take you, that’s all, Sophie. Mrs. Gardiner Green will call upon you to-morrow,” and so saying, he arose and took his leave. When left alone Sophie paced uneasily up and down the floor, saying, as she clasped her temples—