rms of feeling. This letter
(clever and well aimed as it was--for it touched upon the very
wound which had been rankling in my heart during the last few
days) failed in its object, if, indeed, he had hoped that it
would meet my eyes; for, as I read his account of Edward--as I
felt the pain it was meant to inflict--as I acquiesced in the
truth of some of his remarks, and indignantly repelled others,
the cry of my heart, as I threw it from me, was in these
words: "Rather be _his_ slave than _your_ idol."

On the following Saturday they both returned to London, and
when I found myself again with Edward, I forgot everything in
the joy of the moment. But when I was told that the day of our
marriage was positively fixed for the following Monday, it
seemed to me as if it was the first time that I had really
believed it would take place, as if I had never considered
before all that that step involved. For the first time I
thought of what it would be to one in my peculiar situation,
not only to love as I had long done, but to be bound by
irrevocable ties to one who, ignorant of all the circumstances
of my miserable fate, would wonder over each inequality of
spirits I betrayed, condemn every tear I shed, read every
letter I received, and, at the slightest appearance of
equivocation or deceit, would banish me from his heart, and
overwhelm me with his just anger. But it was _too late_, I
said to myself--too late to retract, too late to think. I
mentally closed my eyes, and passed through the next
twenty-four hours like some one walking in his sleep.

On the next day (Sunday) I saw Henry for one moment as we were
walking out of church. I told him, in a low voice, of Robert
Harding's appearance in the parks on the last Wednesday, and
of his following us through the streets.

"_You_ saw him," he exclaimed. "Then it was not Alice's
fancy?"

"No, no--I could swear to him. He had followed us, and stood
at the shop-window long before Alice observed him."

Henry looked extremely discomposed, and muttered something to
himself; then turning to me, he said--

"That fellow has been desperately in love with Alice for
years--since she was quite a child. Her grandmother turned him
out of the house on that account three years ago. Just before
our marriage took place, he made some outrageous scenes; I
threatened to give him into custody, and warned Mrs. Tracy
that I should do so. Two or three days after, she told me he
had sailed for Am