"That I have deceived and imposed upon you--at least in name. I am neither spy nor refugee, indeed, neither cut-throat nor betrayer,--but I am Hyland Gilbert, a son of him who built this house, and a brother of those whose name fills it with horror. Miss Loring, Miss Loring!" he cried, impetuously, seeing that Catherine recoiled from him with terror, "is the name so dreadful even to you? In nothing else am I criminal--do you think I would do you a hurt?" "Surely not, surely not," cried Catherine, gasping almost for breath, and speaking she scarce knew what: "I do not think you would hurt me. No, oh no! I have done you no harm, and my father has been good to you." "For God's sake, Miss Loring--Catherine--compose yourself," cried the young man, both amazed and shocked at the impression his words had produced on a mind almost unhinged by long and brooding sorrow. "What, _I_ harm you? I would die to protect you from the least evil." "And you are a Gilbert, then? a foe to the land of your birth, a disguised enemy, an associate of thieves and murderers?" cried the maiden, with sudden energy, and in a passion of tears; "oh, Mr. Hunter, I thought better of you!" "Think better of me yet," he exclaimed, catching her by the hand, "for as there is a heaven above us, I have done nothing to deserve your hatred. All that I have done--and it is nothing but concealment--was to do you service, and to obtain your friendship." "Go--stay no longer here--you must come no more," cried Catherine, weeping bitterly; "and would you had never come, for I thought you were my friend--my friend, and my poor father's. I don't believe you are a bad man, or that you will do a wrong to any one; but you must go. Yes, go," she added, wildly, "for you are in danger. They will arrest you; and then what will become of you? It was Harriet's talking of this,--of arresting you,--that made me tell you, that you might show her how much she was deceived. Go, go! and never return more. A moment, and the officers will be here: Harriet has sent for them. Go, Mr. Hunter, go!" "I will not, Catherine," cried the youth, giving way to the most vehement emotion: "I know that they are sacrificing you; and I will remain till you are rescued, come what will. You hate this young Falconer; you do, Catherine,--you cannot conceal it: he is unworthy of you--he shall never marry you." "You will drive me mad! For heaven's sake, Mr. Hunter--is this the way to show your friendship?" "My love, Catherine, call it my love. I love you, Catherine Loring, and I will save you, even against your will. Say that you hate Henry Falconer, the wretched son of a still more wretched father--say that--nay, place but your hand on mine, and you shall"---- "Never!" cried Catherine, wildly; "I love you not--I hate you! Release me. Is this the way you repay my father's good deeds? Go, Mr. Hunter: you have made me more unhappy than before."