"Then I can atone for the crime of which I am guilty--for I am guilty of being the child of a man who sold me into shame--you are guilty of having stained your hands in the blood of a wretch who cursed the very air which he breathed--and Ninety-One, is guilty, yes guilty of having once been in--_my father's way_. These are terrible crimes, Gulian--" "Call me not by that name until the 25th of December," exclaimed Nameless. At this moment, Frank turned aside and from the drawer of a cabinet, drew forth a long and slender vial, which she held before the eyes of Nameless. "And if we fail, this will give us peace. It is a quiet messenger, Gulian. Within twelve hours after the contents of this vial have passed the lips, the body will sink into a peaceful sleep, without one sign or token to tell the tale of suicide. Yes, Gulian, if we fail, this vial, which I procured with difficulty, and which I have treasured for years, will enable us to fall asleep in each other's arms, and--forever!" "Suicide!" echoed Nameless, gazing now upon the vial, then upon her countenance, imbued with a look of somber enthusiasm--"You have thought of that?" "O had this vial been mine, in the hour when, pure and hopeful, I was sold into the arms of shame, do you think that for an instant I would have hesitated between the death that lays you quietly asleep in the coffin, and that death which leaves the body living, while it cankers and kills the soul?" Nameless took the vial from her hand and regarded it long and ardently. O what words can picture the strange look, which then came over his face! He uttered a deep sigh and placed the vial in her hands again. She silently placed it in the drawer of the cabinet. As she again confronted him, their eyes met,--they understood each other. "Frank," said Nameless in a measured tone--"Who owns this house? What is its true character?" Seating herself beside him on the sofa she replied: "As to the _owner_ of this house, you may be sure that he is a man of property and moral worth, a church-member and a respectable citizen. But do not imagine for a moment that this is a common haunt of infamy--no, my friend, no! None but the most select, the most aristocratic, ever cross the threshold of this place. Remain until twelve o'clock to-night and you will behold some of the guests who honor my house with their presence." There was a mocking look upon her face as she gave utterance to these words. She beat the carpet with her slipper and grasped the cross which rested on her bosom with a nervous and impatient clutch. "At twelve to-night!" echoed Nameless, and looked into her face. "I will remain;" and once more his whole being was enveloped in the magnetic influence which flowed from the eyes of the lost woman. CHAPTER II. FRANK AND HER SINGULAR VISITOR.