Guy, that you kneel with me in prayer;
that you implore the feeling of preparedness for all chances which can
only come from Heaven. Do this for me, Guy--Guy, my beloved--the
destroyer of my youth, of all my hope, and of all of mine, making me the
poor destitute and outcast that you find me now--do this one, one small
kindness for the poor Ellen you have so much wronged, and she forgives
you all. I have no other prayer than this--I have no other wish in
life."

As she spoke, she threw herself before him, and clasped his knees firmly
with her hands. He lifted her gently from the floor, and for a few
moments maintained her in silence in his arms. At length, releasing her
from his grasp, and placing her upon the bench, on which, until that
moment, he had continued to sit, he replied:--

"The prayer is small--very small, Ellen--which you make, and I know no
good reason why I should not grant it. I have been to you all that you
describe me. You have called me truly your destroyer, and the
forgiveness you promise in return for this prayer is desirable even to
one so callous as myself. I will do as you require."

"Oh, will you? then I shall be so happy!--" was her exclamation of
rejoicing. He replied gravely--

"We shall see. I will, Ellen, do as you require, but you must turn away
your eyes--go to the window and look out. I would not be seen in such a
position, nor while uttering such a prayer."

"Oh, be not ashamed, Guy Rivers. Give over that false sentiment of pride
which is now a weakness. Be the man, the--"

"Be content, Ellen, with my terms. Either as I please, or not at all. Go
to the window."

She did as he directed, and a few moments had elapsed only when he
called her to him. He had resumed his seat upon the bench, and his
features were singularly composed and quiet.

"I have done something more than you required, Ellen, for which you will
also have to forgive me. Give me your hand, now."

She did so, and he placed it upon his bosom, which was now streaming
with his blood! He had taken the momentary opportunity afforded him by
her absence at the window to stab himself to the heart with a penknife
which he had contrived to conceal upon his person. Horror-struck, the
affrighted woman would have called out for assistance, but, seizing her
by the wrist, he sternly stayed her speech and action.

"Not for your life, Ellen--not for your life! It is all useless. I first
carefully felt for the beatings of my heart