in, and Dalibard, freed like her (by what means?), be
her choice! Into that abyss of wickedness, fathomless to the innocent,
the young villanous eye plunged, and surveyed the ground; a terror
seized on him,--a terror of life and death. Would Dalibard spare even
his own son, if that son had the power to injure? This mission, was it
exile only,--only a fall back to the old squalor of his uncle's studio;
only the laying aside of a useless tool? Or was it a snare to the
grave? Demon as Dalibard was, doubtless the boy wronged him. But guilt
construes guilt for the worst.

Gabriel had formerly enjoyed the thought to match himself, should danger
come, with Dalibard; the hour had come, and he felt his impotence. Brave
his father, and refuse to leave France! From that, even his reckless
hardihood shrank, as from inevitable destruction. But to depart,--be the
poor victim and dupe; after having been let loose amongst the riot
of pleasure, to return to labour and privation,--from that option his
vanity and his senses vindictively revolted. And Lucretia, the only
being who seemed to have a human kindness to him! Through all the
vicious egotism of his nature, he had some grateful sentiments for her;
and even the egotism assisted that unwonted amiability, for he felt
that, Lucretia gone, he had no hold on his father's house, that the home
of her successor never would be his. While thus brooding, he lifted his
eyes, and saw Dalibard pass in his carriage towards the Tuileries.
The house, then, was clear; he could see Lucretia alone. He formed his
resolution at once, and turned homewards. As he did so, he observed a
man at the angle of the street, whose eyes followed Dalibard's carriage
with an expression of unmistakable hate and revenge; but scarcely had he
marked the countenance, before the man, looking hurriedly round, darted
away, and was lost amongst the crowd.

Now, that countenance was not quite unfamiliar to Gabriel. He had seen
it before, as he saw it now,--hastily, and, as it were, by fearful
snatches. Once he had marked, on returning home at twilight, a figure
lurking by the house; and something, in the quickness with which
it turned from his gaze, joined to his knowledge of Dalibard's
apprehensions, made him mention the circumstance to his father when he
entered. Dalibard bade him hasten with a note, written hurriedly, to an
agent of the police, whom he kept lodged near at hand. The man was still
on the threshold when the bo