ion"----

"And my daughter!" exclaimed the headsman, with loud and bitter
emphasis. "What is to become _her_? If even you could step back within
the pale of society, _she_ would for ever be excluded. But you have
neither moral courage nor animal bravery enough for any worldly
pursuit--your original station in society is irrecoverably gone--and if
you attempt to leave this safe asylum, the sword of justice will face
you at every turn. No, no, Florian! I love my future son-in-law too well
to expose him to such imminent and deadly peril. There, read that paper!
The contents will bring you to your senses."

With these words, which struck like a wintry chill into the heart of
Florian, he took an old newspaper from his pocket-book. The unhappy
fugitive received it with a shaking hand, and read a judicial summons
from the authorities of D., seeking intelligence of a student, who had
on a certain day quitted the university by the diligence for Normandy,
and unaccountably disappeared. His Christian and surname, with an
accurate description of his dress and person, were appended. Glancing
fearfully down the page, he distinguished some particulars of a murder;
his sight grew dim with terror; and after a vain attempt to read
farther, he dropped the fatal document, and reeled back, breathless, and
almost fainting, against the wall.

"He is the very man!" muttered the headsman, whose keen eye had been
intently fixed upon him during the perusal. "I never asked your real
name, young man," he continued, "but now I know it. Your terrors would
betray it to a child. How then are you, without fortitude to face the
common evils of life, and bearing in every feature a betrayer, to escape
the giant-grasp of the French police? And had this calamity never
befallen you, how could you gain a support in a world, which, by your
own confession, you have ever found ungenial and repulsive? Believe me,
Florian! here, and here only, will you find safety, support, and
happiness."

"Happiness?" mournfully repeated Florian.

"Yes, happiness!" rejoined the tempter. "You and Madelon love each
other, and in every station, from the highest to the lowest, love is
the salt of life, the balm and cordial of existence. My office descends
from generation to generation; it insures to the holder not only a good
house and landed property, but an income of no mean amount. Every
traveller who passes my house pays me a toll, because fifty years
since an inundation co