silence and uncertainty no longer. What
find you in those letters? Oh, speak, or my heart will burst, Paul."

He gave no heed to her or her words, but remained like one impaled;
still, fixed, yet writhing, his features, his whole form and expression
discolored, distorted with inward agony.

"Paul! Paul!" cried Miriam, starting up, standing before him, gazing on
him. "Paul! speak to me. Your looks kill me. Speak, Paul! even though
you can tell me little new. I know it all, Paul; or nearly all. Weeks
ago I received the shock! it overwhelmed me for the time; but I survived
it! But you, Paul--you! Oh! how you look! Speak to your sister, Paul!
Speak to your promised wife."

But he gave no heed to her. She was not strong or assured--she felt
herself tottering on the very verge of death or madness. But she could
not bear to see him looking so. Once more she essayed to engage his
attention.

"Give me those letters, Paul--I can perhaps make out the meaning."

As he did not reply, she gently sought to take them from his hand. But
at her touch he suddenly started up and threw the packet into the fire.
With a quick spring, Miriam darted forward, thrust her hand into the
fire and rescued the packet, scorched and burning, but not destroyed.

She began to put it out, regardless of the pain to her hands. He looked
as if he were tempted to snatch it from her, but she exclaimed:

"No, Paul! no! You will not use force to deprive me of this that I must
guard as a sacred trust."

Still Paul hesitated, and eyed the packet with a gloomy glance.

"Remember honor, Paul, even in this trying moment," said Miriam; "let
honor be saved, if all else be lost."

"What do you mean to do with that parcel?" he asked in a hollow voice.

"Keep them securely for the present."

"And afterward?"

"I know not."

"Miriam, you evade my questions. Will you promise me one thing?"

"What is that?"

"Promise me to do nothing with those letters until you have further
evidence."

"I promise you that."

Then Paul took up a candle and left the room, as if to go to his
sleeping apartment; but on reaching the hall, he threw down and
extinguished the light and rushed as if for breath out into the open
air.

The night was keen and frosty, the cold, slaty sky was thickly studded
with sparkling stars, the snow was crusted over--it was a fine, fresh,
clear, wintry night; at another time it would have invigorated and
inspired him; now the air seemed sti