“It was, then, no mysterious warning! no airy voice that mocked my ear; but a dread reality!” she at length said. “Why have you thus braved the indignation of the laws of your country? On what errand of fell mischief has your ruthless temper again urged you to embark?” “This is strong and cruel language, coming from you to me, Alice Dunscombe,” returned the stranger, with cool asperity, “and the time has been when I should have been greeted, after a shorter absence, with milder terms.” “I deny it not; I cannot, if I would, conceal my infirmity from myself or you; I hardly wish it to continue unknown to the world. If I have once esteemed you, if I have plighted to you my troth, and in my confiding folly forgot my higher duties, God has amply punished me for the weakness in your own evil deeds.” “Nay, let not our meeting be embittered with useless and provoking recriminations,” said the other; “for we have much to say before you communicate the errand of mercy on which you have come hither. I know you too well, Alice, not to see that you perceive the peril in which I am placed, and are willing to venture something for my safety. Your mother--does she yet live?” “She is gone in quest of my blessed father,” said Alice, covering her pale face with her hands; “they have left me alone, truly; for he, who was to have been all to me, was first false to his faith, and has since become unworthy of my confidence.” The stranger became singularly agitated, his usually quiet eye glancing hastily from the floor to the countenance of his companion, as he paced the room with hurried steps; at length he replied: “There is much, perhaps, to be said in explanation, that you do not know. I left the country, because I found in it nothing but oppression and injustice, and I could not invite you to become the bride of a wanderer, without either name or fortune. But I have now the opportunity of proving my truth. You say you are alone; be so no longer, and try how far you were mistaken in believing that I should one day supply the place to you of both father and mother.” There is something soothing to a female ear in the offer of even protracted justice, and Alice spoke with less of acrimony in her tones, during the remainder of their conference, if not with less of severity in her language. “You talk not like a man whose very life hangs but on a thread that the next minute may snap asunder. Whither would you lead me? Is it to the Tower at London?” “Think not that I have weakly exposed my person without a sufficient protection,” returned the stranger with cool indifference; “there are many gallant men who only wait my signal, to crush the paltry force of this officer like a worm beneath my feet.” “Then has the conjecture of Colonel Howard been true I and the manner in which the enemy's vessels have passed the shoals is no longer a mystery! you have been their pilot!” “I have.”