companion sought
to be as gentle as the force necessary to employ would allow, that he
disengaged her hands from the window-frame, the lining, the cushions, to
which they clung; and at last bore her into the house. The driver closed
the window again as he retreated, and they were alone. Fanny then cast
a wild, scarce conscious glance over the apartment. It was small and
simply furnished. Opposite to her was an old-fashioned bureau, one of
those quaint, elaborate monuments of Dutch ingenuity, which, during
the present century, the audacious spirit of curiosity-vendors has
transplanted from their native receptacles, to contrast, with grotesque
strangeness, the neat handiwork of Gillow and Seddon. It had a
physiognomy and character of its own--this fantastic foreigner! Inlaid
with mosaics, depicting landscapes and animals; graceless in form
and fashion, but still picturesque, and winning admiration, when more
closely observed, from the patient defiance of all rules of taste
which had formed its cumbrous parts into one profusely ornamented and
eccentric whole. It was the more noticeable from its total want of
harmony with the other appurtenances of the room, which bespoke
the tastes of the plain English squire. Prints of horses and hunts,
fishing-rods and fowling-pieces, carefully suspended, decorated the
walls. Not, however, on this notable stranger from the sluggish land
rested the eye of Fanny. That, in her hurried survey, was arrested only
by a portrait placed over the bureau--the portrait of a female in the
bloom of life; a face so fair, a brow so candid, and eyes so pure, a
lip so rich in youth and joy--that as her look lingered on the features
Fanny felt comforted, felt as if some living protectress were there. The
fire burned bright and merrily; a table, spread as for dinner, was drawn
near it. To any other eye but Fanny's the place would have seemed a
picture of English comfort. At last her looks rested on her companion.
He had thrown himself, with a long sigh, partly of fatigue, partly of
satisfaction, on one of the chairs, and was contemplating her as she
thus stood and gazed, with an expression of mingled curiosity and
admiration; she recognised at once her first, her only persecutor. She
recoiled, and covered her face with her hands. The man approached her:--

"Do not hate me, Fanny,--do not turn away. Believe me, though I have
acted thus violently, here all violence will cease. I love you, but I
will not be s