Before this image, with head bowed upon his clasped hands, knelt the boy, Gulian. The light shone upon his glossy hair, which fell to his shoulders, and over the outlines of his graceful shape. He was evidently absorbed in voiceless prayer. Altogether, it was a singular--yes, a beautiful picture. But the Colonel had no time to waste on pictures, however beautiful. He placed his arm against the sash--it yielded--and the colonel sprang through the window into the room. Gulian heard the crash, and started up, and beheld the colonel standing near him, his arms folded on his breast, and his face stamped with a look of fiendish triumph. "Oh, my God!" he ejaculated, and stood as if spell-bound by terror. "You see it is all in vain," said the Colonel, showing his white teeth in a smile. "You cannot escape from me. You must do my will. Come, my child, we must be moving." He placed Gulian's cap upon his chesnut curls, and pointed to the door. The eyes of the poor youth were wild with affright. He evidently stood in mortal terror of Tarleton. His glance roved from side to side, and he ejaculated-- "In his power again; just as I thought myself forever safe from his persecution!" "Answer me--where did you meet the man who brought you to this house?" As he spoke, Tarleton seized the boy by the wrist. "In the street; I had fainted on the sidewalk," was the answer, in a tremulous voice. "And how came you in the street at such an unusual hour?" "When you left Mr. Somers' house, you threatened to return to-morrow," answered Gulian, clasping his hands over his breast. "I was determined to avoid seeing you again, at all hazards. I left the house, and wandered forth, uncertain whither to direct my steps. Yes--oh yes! I had one purpose plainly in my mind,"--he smiled, and his eyes brightened up with a strange light,--"I resolved to bend my steps to the river." "To the river?" "Yes, to the river," answered the boy, with a singular smile: "for you know that if I was drowned, I would be safe from you forever." "And you would become a--suicide!" said Tarleton, with a sneer; "you, so finely brought up! Have you no fear of the hereafter?" Gulian's pale face lighted with a faint glow.--"There are some deeds which are worse than suicide," he answered quietly, yet with a significant glance. "It was to avoid the commission of one of these deeds, that, scarcely an hour ago, I left the house of Mr. Somers and bent my steps to the river." "And you fainted, and this man came across you while you were insensible--eh? Who is he? and what was it that led him from his carriage, along the street where he found you?" "An impulse, or presentiment, as he told me, which he could not resist, and which impressed him that he might save the life of a fellow-being. He left his carriage; he arrived before it was too late. In a little while I should have been frozen to death."