o contempt before his men, "or,
by Heaven, I will have your tongue cut out!--Mr. Lawson, let what this
fellow requires be procured immediately." Then addressing Lieutenant
Boyce, who commanded the immediate guard over the prisoner,--"Let his
hands be liberated, sir, and enjoin your men to be watchful of the
movements of this supple traitor. His activity I know of old to be
great, and he seems to have doubled it since he assumed that garb."

The command was executed, and the prisoner stood, once more, free and
unfettered in every muscular limb. A deep and unbroken silence ensued;
and the return of the adjutant was momentarily expected. Suddenly a
loud scream was heard, and the slight figure of a female, clad in
white, came rushing from the piazza in which the apartment of the
deceased De Haldimar was situated. It was Clara. The guard of Wacousta
formed the fourth front of the square; but they were drawn up somewhat
in the distance, so as to leave an open space of several feet at the
angles. Through one of these the excited girl now passed into the area,
with a wildness in her air and appearance that riveted every eye in
painful interest upon her. She paused not until she had gained the side
of the captive, at whose feet she now sank in an attitude expressive of
the most profound despair.

"Tiger!--monster!" she raved, "restore my brother!--give me back the
gentle life you have taken, or destroy my own! See, I am a weak
defenceless girl: can you not strike?--you who have no pity for the
innocent. But come," she pursued, mournfully, regaining her feet and
grasping his iron hand,--"come and see the sweet calm face of him you
have slain:--come with me, and behold the image of Clara Beverley; and,
if you ever loved her as you say you did, let your soul be touched with
remorse for your crime."

The excitement and confusion produced by this unexpected interruption
was great. Murmurs of compassion for the unhappy Clara, and of
indignation against the prisoner, were no longer sought to be repressed
by the men; while the officers, quitting their places in the ranks,
grouped themselves indiscriminately in the foreground. One, more
impatient than his companions, sprang forward, and forcibly drew away
the delicate, hand that still grasped that of the captive. It was Sir
Everard Valletort.

"Clara, my beloved wife!" he exclaimed, to the astonishment of all who
heard him, "pollute not your lips by further communion with such a
wre