"Yes, sir, he is in that inner room." "Is any one with him?" "No, sir." And Morton opened the door and entered. Vinal sat before a table, on which letters and papers were lying; but he was leaning backward in his chair, with a painfully knit brow, and a face of ghastly paleness. It flushed of a sudden as Morton appeared, and his whole look and mien showed an irrepressible agitation. Morton closed the door. "Vinal," he said, "you need not fear that I have come with any hostile purpose. On the contrary, I will serve you, if I can. Last night I used words to you which I have since regretted. I beg you to accept my apology." Vinal made no reply. "I saw Speyer in the street last evening, and tried to speak with him, but could not stop him. He can hardly have any other purpose in breaking his oath and coming here again, than to get more money from you. Has he been to you?" Still Vinal was silent. "I think," continued Morton, "that you cannot fail to see my motive. I wish to keep him from you, not on your account, but on your wife's. If you let him, he will torment you to your death. Have you seen him since last evening?" Vinal inclined his head. "Where is he now?" "I don't know." "Has he left the city?" "I don't know. I suppose so." "And you gave him money?" Vinal was silent again. Morton took his silence for assent. "When he comes again, tell me of it, and let me speak to him. Possibly I may find means to rid you of him. Meantime remember this. He has given your letter up to me. He has no proofs to show against you, unless he has other letters of yours;--is that the case?" Vinal shook his head. "Then, if he proclaims you, his word will not be taken, unless I sustain it; and I shall keep silent unless you give me some new cause to speak. I do not see that he can harm you much without my help; so give him no more money, and set him at defiance." Morton left the room; but his words had brought no relief to the wretched Vinal. Speyer had shown him his letter, and told him the artifice by which he had kept it, and palmed off a counterfeit on Morton. He felt himself at the mercy of a miscreant as rapacious, fierce, and pitiless, as a wolverene dropping on its prey. CHAPTER LXIV. Ah, would my friendship with thee Might drown the memory of all patterns past!--_Suckling_. Some few days after, riding, as usual, in the afternoon, Morton saw on the road before him a lady on horseback, riding in the same direction. At a glance, he recognized the air and figure of Fanny Euston. This remnant, at least, of her former spirit remained to her,--she did not hesitate to ride unattended. Morton checked his horse, reflected for a little, then touched him with the spur, and in a moment was at her side. After they had conversed for a while, she said,-- "I have heard a great deal of your imprisonment from others, but nothing from yourself. Will you not let me hear your story from your own lips?"