and man in refusing to seal
my own misery. The promise I made you, sir, was given under peculiar
circumstances--under terror of your death. These circumstances are now
removed, and it is cruel to call on me to make a sacrifice that is
a thousand times worse than death. No, papa, I will not marry this
depraved man--this common seducer. I shall never unite myself to him,
let the consequences be what they may. There is a line beyond which
parental authority ought not to go--you have crossed it."

"Be it so, madam; I shall see you again in a few minutes," he replied,
and immediately left the room, his face almost black with rage and
disappointment. Lucy grew alarmed at the terrible abruptness and
significance of his manner, and began to tremble, although she knew not
why.

"Can I violate my promise," said she to herself, "after having made it
so solemnly? And ought I to marry this man in obedience to my father?
Alas! I know not; but may heaven direct me for the best! If I thought it
would make papa happy--but his is a restless and ambitious spirit, and
how can I be certain of that? May heaven direct me and guide me!"

In a few minutes afterwards her father returned, and taking out of his
pockets a pair of pistols, laid them on the table.

"Now, Lucy," said he solemnly, and with a vehemence of manner almost
frantic, "we will see if you cannot yet save your father's life, or
whether you will prefer to have his blood on your soul."

"For heaven's sake, papa," said his daughter, running to him, and
throwing or attempting to throw her arms about him, partly, in the
moment of excitement, to embrace, and partly to restrain him.

"Hold off, madam," he replied; "hold off; you have made me
desperate--you have driven me mad. Now, mark me. I will not ask you to
marry this man; but I swear by all that is sacred, that if you disgrace
me--if you insult Lord Dunroe by refusing to be united to him this
day--I shall put the contents of one or both of these pistols through
my brains; and you may comfort yourself over the corpse of a suicide
father, and turn to your brother for protection."

Either alternative was sufficiently dreadful for the poor worn and
wearied out girl.

"Oh, papa," she exclaimed, again attempting to throw her arms around
him; "put these fearful weapons aside. I will obey you--I will marry
him."

"This day?"

"This day, papa, as soon as my aunt and Mrs. Mainwaring come, and I can
get myself dressed."

"Do