All this and much more, Captain Cecil Wiseman, the nobly born aristocrat, put himself to the trouble to do, and suffer, in order that he might work the ruin of an innocent, unsuspecting, country maiden. For long, he had no apparent success, for Sally Wanless was shielded by her very innocence, and she was also very shy, so that it was most difficult to get near her. By degrees, however, she became familiar with the Captain's face and figure, and his presence ceased to be either repulsive to her or to frighten her. Not very tall, heavy in make, and, with fluffy, sodden features, and a skin already over red from dissipation, Captain Cecil was by no means an attractive person. His voice, too, was harsh, and his eye evil. For all that, patience and cunning carried the day. Labouring incessantly to throw the girl off her guard, he succeeded, and as soon as he had done so, he knew the game to be in his own hands. It is a terrible mystery this power which evil-minded men gain over women. They fascinate them, as snakes are said to fascinate birds, till they become powerless, and fall helpless and abandoned into the jaws of destruction. By slow degrees then the captain drew Sally into his power, and seduced her. He had stalked his game, with more than a hunter's patience, but he triumphed. Bewildered, surprised, horrified, the poor girl scarcely knew what had befallen her, felt only a vague dread and consciousness that somehow, for her, the world was all altered, that where joy and hope had been, there was now the ashes of a burnt-out fire. Ah, poor young lass, this squire's son, this noble captain of Her Majesty's Dragoon Guards, had done his best to destroy you, body and soul, and boasted of the deed. In proportion, as the task was hard, he exulted at his success. To destroy the life of a virtuous girl was almost a greater triumph to him than to be first in at the death of a fox. To win this triumph he had stooped to lies black as hell, and cared not. His end gained, his interest in his victim at once sank, and soon he hated the sight of her sad, tear-swollen face. Ah, God! that these things should be, and men have no shame for the shameless seducer, no horror of his blasting career.