e,
she paused for a moment, as if to prolong this happy reprieve from the
presence of the Spaniard.

Suddenly, the wretch, Pedro, sprung in her path, and while with one
hand he seized the trembling girl, with the other he drew his
stiletto, and muttering a horrible oath, raised it as if about to
strike at her innocent bosom. Mildred did not scream, she did not
faint, but he eyes closed, and all power of speech and motion seemed
paralized. But the threatened blow was arrested; a violent struggle
ensued, during which she was clasped still more tightly to the breast
of the ruffian, who seemed to be defending himself from some superior
arm. Oaths and curses mingled with the clash of weapons; she was
dragged, as it were, several paces through the grove, and then, after
another struggle, she felt the arm of the assassin relax its
grasp--she was caught to the breast of her deliverer, and then placed
gently on the soft turf.

"Mildred--my angel--my life--O, speak to me!"

_That voice!_ Mildred knew its hateful tones; and a cold shudder crept
through her frame, as if some venomous reptile had touched her, as she
felt the villains lips press her brow. Recoiling, she slowly opened
her eyes.

"Thank God!" exclaimed Perozzi, "you are restored to me. Holy Virgin!
can it be--so near death, and yet living and unhurt, I now hold you in
my arms! O, blessed moment, when love guided me hither!"

"I owe you my life, signor," said Mildred, freeing herself from his
embrace, "but it is a thankless boon; methinks death would have been
sweeter! Leave me--I am better--I am well--leave me, signor!"

"Sweet angel! leave thee--leave thee thus exposed to new dangers!
No--lean on me, my beloved--let me guide your trembling steps!" and he
passed his arm around her.

"Away!" cried Mildred, springing from him. "Away! touch me not!
Monster--fiend! I hate you! Begone from my sight forever, or, in
mercy, kill me!"

Perozzi became livid with rage, and his eye-balls gleamed like fire in
the deepening shadows, as they rested on Mildred, never more beautiful
than as she now stood before him in all the majesty of outraged
purity. But masking the hell in his heart with a well-feigned air of
desperation, he fell on his knees before her.

"Would that the assassin's knife had reached my heart!" he exclaimed.
"Better for me to die than endure your scorn. Yes, _die_! By heavens!
why not end this miserable existence--here--yes, here, at your feet,
cruel Mi