any a warm and loving heart
has been so frozen! Do not let yours be one of them. Be mine! be mine!"

Amabel looked at him earnestly for a moment; while he, assured that he
had gained his point, could not conceal a slightly triumphant smile.

"Now, your answer!" he cried. "My life hangs upon it."

"I am still unmoved," she replied, coldly, and firmly.

"Ah!" exclaimed the earl with a terrible imprecation, and starting to
his feet. "You refuse me. Be it so. But think not that you shall escape
me. No, you are in my power, and I will use it. You shall be mine and
without the priest's interference. I will not degrade myself by an
alliance with one so lowly born. The strongest love is nearest allied to
hatred, and mine has become hatred--bitter hatred. You shall be mine, I
tell you, and when I am indifferent to you, I will cast you off. Then,
when you are neglected, despised, shunned, you will regret--deeply but
unavailingly--your rejection of my proposals."

"No, my lord, I shall never regret it," replied Amabel, "and I cannot
sufficiently rejoice that I did not yield to the momentary weakness that
inclined me to accept them. I thank you for the insight you have
afforded me into your character."

"You have formed an erroneous opinion of me, Amabel," cried the earl,
seeing his error, and trying to correct it. "I am well nigh distracted
by conflicting emotions. Oh, forgive my violence--forget it."

"Readily," she replied; "but think not I attach the least credit to your
professions."

"Away, then, with further disguise," returned the earl, relapsing into
his furious mood, "and recognise in me the person I am--or, rather the
person you would have me be. You say you are immovable. So am I; nor
will I further delay my purpose."

Amabel, who had watched him uneasily during this speech, retreated a
step, and taking a small dagger from a handkerchief in which she kept it
concealed, placed its point against her breast.

"I well know whom I have to deal with, my lord," she said, "and am,
therefore, provided against the last extremity. Attempt to touch me, and I
plunge this dagger into my heart."

"Your sense of religion will not allow you to commit so desperate a
deed," replied the earl, derisively.

"My blood be upon your head, my lord," she rejoined; "for it is your
hand that strikes the blow, and not my own. My honour is dearer to me
than life, and I will unhesitatingly sacrifice the one to preserve the
other. I have