pecting my visit, to which she
assented by a humble yet silent movement of acquiescence, I commenced
reading the earnest prayers which the occasion called for. As I proceeded,
the faint chorus of a drinking song came upon my ears from some far
recesses of this mysterious abode; doors were suddenly opened and closed
with a vault-like echo, and a hoarse voice called on the woman who had
admitted me; she started suddenly from her knees, and, with the paleness
of fear on her countenance, left the room. After a moment's hesitating
pause, the invalid spoke in a voice whose low flute-like tones stole upon
the heart like aerial music.

"I thank you," she said, "for this kind visit, those soothing prayers. Oh,
how often in my wanderings have I longed to listen to such words! Cast
out, like an Indian pariah, from the pale of human fellowship, I had
almost forgotten how to pray; but you have shed the healing balm of
religion once more upon my seared and blighted heart, and I can weep glad
tears of penitence, and dare to hope for pardon."

After this burst of excitement, she grew more calm, and our conversation
assumed a devotional yet placid tenor, until she drew from her bosom a
small packet, and gave it to me with a trembling hand.

"Read it, sir," she said; "it is the sad history of a life of sorrow. Have
pity as you trace the record of human frailty, and remember that you are
the servant of the Merciful!"

She paused, and her cheek grew paler, as if her ear caught an unwelcome
but well-known sound. A quick step was soon heard in the passage, and a
man entered, bearing a light; he stood a moment on the threshold, as if
surprised, and then hastily approached us. A model of manly beauty, his
haughty features bore the prevailing characteristics of the gipsy
blood--the rich olive cheek, the lustrous eyes, the long silky raven hair,
the light and flexible form, the step lithe and graceful as the leopard's;
yet were all these perfections marred by an air of reckless
licentiousness. His attire, which strangely mingled the rich and gaudy
with the worn and faded, added to the ruffianism of his appearance; and as
he cast a stern look on the pale girl, who shrank beneath his eye, I read
at once the mournful secret of her despair. With rough words he bade me
begone, and, as the beseeching eye of his victim glanced meaningly toward
the door, I departed, with a silent prayer in my heart for the betrayer
and the erring.

A cold drizzling