ard me, his face white
with emotion, and continued--"I love you, Agnes, though it is no time now
to speak of my passion, and have watched over you as a father, a brother,
a _lover_ would watch."

This announcement affected me more than I care to confess, considering I
did not return his love, but it was the allusion to his sheltering care
that moved me.

"Yes, I have watched over you; orphan that you are, you need some
guardian care. I knew by your frequent journeys to the village, by your
cloistering in your own apartment, and more than all, by your speaking
countenance, that you were preparing for some great event in your life.

"Last night I could not sleep; I laid my head upon my pillow, but finding
it impossible to close my eyes I arose and dressed. Sitting by my window
I thought I heard a commotion in your room. I listened until my surmises
grew into certainty. The hour was midnight, and your door, which at that
season is usually closed like a cloister-gate, swung on its hinges.

"This alarmed me; I unlocked my door and looked out. Soon a hasty step
retreating from your chamber met my ear. Descending the stairs, this
untimely visitor entered the room where Herbert lay sleeping. A strange
suspicion came over me. Can the intruder be Richard? I thought. If so,
what was he doing at that hour of the night? I seized a lighted candle
and rushed to the boy's apartment, and there I found Richard, maddened,
and beside himself with liquor and frenzy. I was just in time to save
Herbert's life from his insane fury.

"I know not what had occurred between you and him, Agnes, but this I
know, he had failed in some diabolical plot he had contemplated. Chance
or a friendly Providence had thwarted his purpose. I had him in my power,
and compelled him to leave the house, not to return until you have been
removed where he will never find you.

"I cannot leave my beautiful bird, my pet dove, where the charms of this
wily serpent may ensnare her."

He ceased. My eyes were dry, my heart turned to stone. I arose, and
mechanically moved toward the door.

"Where are you going, Agnes? Tell me of your plans; regard me as your
friend, I beg."

"Take me away--take me away," I cried hysterically; "I must go! Oh, oh,
oh!" I should have fallen, but he caught me in his arms.

CHAPTER VIII.

On reviving came the dread feeling that I must go. Go whither? I had no
home. I could not return to my uncle who had cast me adrift. The
i