me away. I have sinned against heaven and in
thy sight, and am no longer worthy to be called thy daughter, but, oh,
punish me not with the presence of this bad man!"

Without a word, Mr. Hurst took the cold hand of his daughter and led
her into another room. Jameson was left alone--alone with his own
black heart and base thoughts. We would as soon dwell with a
rattle-snake in its hole, and attempt to analyze its venom, as
register the dark writhing of a nature like his. The sound of a voice,
low, earnest and pleading, now and then reached his ear. Then there
was a noise as of some one falling, followed by the tramp of several
persons moving about in haste; and, after a little, Mr. Hurst entered
the room again.

Young Jameson stood up, for reflection had warned him that he could no
longer trust to the power of Florence with her father; there had been
something in the terrible stillness of her indignation, in the pale
features, the dilated eyes, and the brows arched with ineffable scorn,
that convinced him how mistaken was the anchor which he had expected
to hold so firmly in her love. He knew Mr. Hurst, and felt that in his
lofty pride alone could rest any hope of a rescue from the penalty of
his crimes.

He stood up, then, as I have said, with more of respect in his manner
than had hitherto marked it.

Mr. Hurst resumed his chair and motioned that the young man should
follow his example. He was very pale, and a look of keen suffering lay
around his eyes, but still in his features was an expression of
relief, as if the degredation that had fallen upon him was less than
he had dreaded.

"How, may I ask, how is my--, how is Florence--she looked ill; I trust
nothing serious?" said Jameson, sinking into his chair, and goaded to
say something by the keen gaze which Mr. Hurst had turned upon him.

"Never again take that name into your lips," said the outraged
father--and his stern voice shook with concentrated passion. "If you
but breath it in a whisper to your own base heart alone, I will cast
aside all, and punish you even to the extremity of the law."

"But, Mr. Hurst--"

"Peace, sir!"

The young ingrate drew back with a start, and looked toward the door,
for the terrible passion which he had lighted in that lofty man now
broke forth in voice, look and gesture; the wretch was appalled by it.

"Sit still, sir, and hear what I have to say."

"I will--I listen, Mr. Hurst, but do be more composed. I did not mean