s will be generous, and they must be
grateful for a forbearance that she has no right to expect. Half his
fortune--nay, the whole of it--will be little to ask in return."

"Woman, has a fiend or angel put this thought into your head?"

"Both; if love is an angel, and hate a fiend."

"And, what can you expect from this?"

"Nothing!"

"Nothing! This is not true, Zillah!"

"Is it hoping much, when I only wish to be a slave again?"

"My poor Zillah; and did you, indeed, care for me so much?"

The woman fell down upon her knees, buried her face between both hands,
and burst into a passion of tears.

The General was annoyed; there was something too much like a scene in
the attitude and tears of his former slave. He leaned back in his chair,
regarding her with a glance of cynical impatience. She caught the look,
as her hands fell apart; and the hot blood that rushed over her face
seemed to burn up her tears. She broke into a smile, and arose, sweeping
a hand across her eyes fiercely, as if to punish them for weeping.

"There, there, I will go now. It is a long time since I have been so
foolish."

General Harrington smiled; the flush of her face and the brilliant mist
which tears had left in her eyes, reminded him of past years, when he
had, from mere wantonness, provoked those passionate outbursts, in order
to kindle up the beauty of her face.

"But you have forgotten to say how you obtained entrance into my private
apartments. I trust no one saw you come in."

"No one that could recognize me. I became too well acquainted with the
house when we stopped here with my old mistress, on our way to Europe,
for any need of a door. The balconies are too near the ground for that."

"And how long had you been waiting in my bed-chamber, then?" continued
the General, pleased with the prompt return of her cheerfulness.

"All the time that you were reading. I only sought to look on you again
from a distance, and would have escaped without disturbing you, had it
been possible."

The General smiled complacently. After the outrage suffered by his
self-love, this devotion soothed him greatly.

"My poor Zillah!" he said, with a sort of compassion in his voice, "poor
Zillah!"

She did not answer him, and when he turned a moment after to learn the
cause, her place was empty. Like some gorgeous wild bird, she had
lighted at his feet a moment, and flown away. But the vellum-book was in
his hands, and her wicked counsel lay fold