Herman _did_ comprehend. The full force of Arthur's determination crowded upon him, impressing every fiber of his soul. "No,--no,--this cannot be," he faltered,--"If you must wreak your vengeance on me, kill me at once. But, to be thus accompanied, I will not consent--" "Kill you?" and there was a sad smile on Dermoyne's face; "do you suppose that the mere act of physical death can atone for the moral and physical death of poor Alice? You commit a wrong, that is murder in a sense, that the basest physical murder can never equal; and you think the sacrifice of your life will atone for that wrong? Faugh! If Alice dies, I will kill you,--be assured of that--I will crush the miserable life which now beats within your brain,--but, first, I will make you die a thousand deaths--I will kill you in soul as well as in body--for every throb which you have made her suffer, you shall render an exact, a fearful account--yes, before I kill your miserable body, I will kill you in reputation, in all that makes life dear, in everything that you hold sacred, or that those with whom you are connected by all or any ties, hold sacred. To do this, I must _know all about you_, and to know all about you, I must go with you and be your shadow." "Oh, this is infernal!" groaned Barnhurst, dropping his hands helplessly on his knees, while his head sank back against the chair, "Have you no mercy?" "A preacher appeared as a demi-god, to the eyes of a sinless girl,--clad in the light of religion, he appeared to her as something more than mortal--aware of this fact, he passed from the pulpit where she heard him preach to her father's home, and there dishonored her. When her dishonor was complete, and a second life throbbed within her, so far from thinking of hiding her shame under the mantle of an honorable marriage, he calmly plotted the murder of his victim and her unborn child. And this preacher now crouches before his executioner, and falters, 'Have you no mercy?'" "But I could not marry her," groaned Barnhurst, "it was impossible! impossible!" "Why?" Barnhurst buried his face in his hands, but did not answer. "You killed her to save your _reputation_," whispered Arthur, "and now I have your life and reputation in my grasp. In the name of Alice, I will use my power. Come! Let us be going. I am ready to attend you." He took the hat and cloak of the clergyman, from a chair, (where Barnhurst had left them before he ascended to the chamber of Alice) and exclaimed with a low bow-- "Your hat and cloak, sir. I am ready."