He drew near to me, bent eagerly above me, then again concealed himself,
as it was wise for him to do, in shadow; and I could hear his hissing
breath, as it passed between his closed teeth--like that of a roused
serpent. The impulse of the man came near betraying him, but he rallied
and refrained from an exposure, as he would have supposed it, that must
have been fatal to his success as a lover, even if it confirmed his
power of possession.

His tones, low and deep, were unmistakably those of suppressed passion
when he spoke again, and he had almost dropped his accent, so
wonderfully assumed.

"When shall he come to you, and speak for himself? Let me take to him
some word of encouragement from your lips--for de love of whom--he
languishes--he dies! All other passions of his life have proved like
cobwebs, compared to this--avarice, ambition, revenge, all yield before
it! He is your slave! Do not trample on a fervent heart, thus laid at
your feet! Have mercy on this unfortunate!"

"Strange language from a captor to a captive--mocking language, that I
find unendurable! Let Mr. Gregory remain where he is until the extreme
limit of the interval granted me by Basil Bainrothe--as breathing-space
before execution; and before hope expires in thick darkness--then let
him come and take what he will find of the victim of so much perfidy!"

"You do not--you cannot--meditate personal violence, self-murder?" He
spoke in a voice of agony, that could scarcely be restrained from
breaking into its natural tones.

"No--no--do not flatter yourselves that I could be driven by you--by
_any_ one to such God-offending," I hastened to say, for I felt the
importance of keeping this barrier of disguise, of ice, between Gregory
and myself as a means of safety for a season, and determined that he
should not transcend it, if I could prevent an _expose_, such as his
excited feelings made imminent. "My hopes are dead--say this to Mr.
Gregory--and I have reason to believe I should fare as well in his hands
as in any other's, knowing him--as I know him to be--" and I hesitated
here for a moment--"gentle, compassionate, faithful, where his feelings
are fairly enlisted."

"He thanks you, through my lips, most lovely lady, for dis great proof
of consideration; dis' message, which I shall truthfully deliver, will
fill his heart with joy, long a stranger to his breast, for he has
feared your hatred."

"Now go, Dr. Englehart, and let no one come to