his fist in her
face. "Betray but one syllable of what you have overheard, and your bed
is prepared for you."

"I do not care how soon," said Mary; "if you hold out such a temptation,
I don't know what I might be tempted to do. They say that the sins of
the murdered are all visited upon the murderer. What a comfort it would
be to transfer mine to you." This was said in a tone of bitter irony;
and, however unwilling to betray himself, it seemed to produce a strange
effect upon the mind of the ruffian.

"Who talks of murder?" he said. "You are dreaming. Go to your bed, Mary.
It is late; and don't forget to say your prayers."

"Prayers!" said the girl with a mocking laugh. "The prayers of the
wicked never come up before the throne of God. My prayers would sound in
my own ears like blasphemy. How would they sound in the ears of God?"

"Don't talk in that way, Mary; you make my flesh creep," said Mathews.
"I have never said a prayer since I was a boy at my mother's knee, and
that was before Mary was born. Had mother lived I should not have been
what I now am; and poor Mary--." He paused; there was a touch of
tenderness in the ruffian's tone and manner. The remembrance of that
mother's love seemed the only holy thing that had ever been impressed
upon his mind; and sunk even as he was in guilt, and hardened in crime,
had he followed its suggestions it would have led him back to God, and
made him the protector, instead of the base vendor of his sister's
honor.

"What is the use of dwelling upon the past?" said Godfrey, pettishly.
"We were all very good little boys once. At least my father always told
me so; and by the strange contradictions which abound in human nature, I
suppose that that was the very reason which made me grow up a bad man.
And bad men we both are, Mathews, in the world's acceptation, and we may
as well make the most we can of our acquired reputation."

"Now I would like to know," said Mathews, gloomily, "if you have ever
felt a qualm of conscience in your life?"

"I do not believe in a future state. Let that answer you."

"Do you never fear the dark?" returned Mathews, glancing stealthily
around. "Never feel that eyes are looking upon you--cold, glassy eyes,
that peer into your very soul--eyes which are not of this world, and
which no other eyes can see? Snuff the candles, Mary. The room looks as
dismal as a vault."

Godfrey burst into a loud laugh. "If I were troubled with such ocular
demonstrati