It was not merely what she had to suffer from the Evil Eye of the demon Woodward, but from the fact which had reached her ears of what she considered the profligate conduct of his brother Charles, once her betrothed lover. This latter reflection, associated with the probability of his death, when joined to the terrible malady which Woodward had inflicted on her, may enable our readers to perceive what the poor girl had to suffer. Still she told her father that she would be present if her health permitted her, “especially,” she added, “as there was no possibility of Woodward being among the guests.” “Why, my dear child,” said her father, “what could put such an absurd apprehension into your head?” “Because, papa, I don't think he will ever let me out of his power until he kills me. I don't think he will come here; but I dread to return home, because I fear that if I do he will obtrude himself on me; and I feel that another gaze of his eye would occasion my death.” “I would call him out,” replied the father, “and shoot him like a dog, to which honest and faithful animal it is a sin to compare the villain.” “And then I might be left fatherless!” she exclaimed. “O, papa, promise me that you never will have recourse to that dreadful alternative.” “But my darling, I only said so upon the supposition of your death by him.” “But mamma!” “Come, come, Alice, get up your spirits, and be able to attend this dinner. It will cheer you and do you good. We have been discussing soap bubbles. Give up thinking of the scoundrel, and you will soon feel yourself well enough. In about another month we will start for Killarney, and see the lakes and the magnificent scenery by which they are surrounded.” “Well, dear papa, I shall go to this dinner if I am at all able; but indeed I do not expect to be able.”