as had the courage to release. _You_--a man,
will not do it. _Will you?_"

"An act of justice is never base or cowardly. Clinton is a convicted
thief, and deserves the doom impending over such transgressors. He is an
unprincipled and profligate young man, and unworthy the love of a
pure-hearted woman. He has tempted your brother from the paths of
virtue, repaid your confidence with the coldest treachery, violated the
laws of God and man, and yet, unparalleled infatuation--you love him
still, and expose yourself to slander and disgrace for his sake."

He spoke sternly, commandingly. He had tried reason and persuasion, he
now spoke with authority, but it was equally in vain.

"Who told you that I love him?" she repeated. "'Tis false. I hate him. I
hate him!" she again repeated, but her lips quivered, and her voice
choked.

Arthur hailed this symptom of sensibility as a favorable omen. He had
never intended to inform the jailer of Clinton's escape. He would not be
instrumental to such an event himself, knowing, as he did, his guilt,
but since it had been effected by another, he could not help rejoicing
in heart. Perhaps Clinton might profit by this bitter lesson, and
"reformation glittering over his faults"--efface by its lustre the dark
stain upon his name. And while he condemned the rashness and mourned for
the misguided feelings of Mittie, he could not repress an involuntary
thrill of admiration for her deep, self-sacrificing love. What a pity
that a passion so sublime in its strength and despair should be
inspired by a being so unworthy.

"Will you not let me pass?" said he.

"Never, for such a purpose."

"I disclaim it altogether, I never intended to put in execution the
threat I breathed. It was to induce you to leave this horrible place
that I uttered it. I am ashamed of the subterfuge, though the motive was
pure. Mittie, I entreat you to come with me; I entreat you with the
sincerity of a friend, the earnestness of a brother. I will never
breathe to a human being the mystery of Clinton's escape. I will guard
your reputation with the most jealous vigilance. Not even my blind Alice
shall be considered a more sacred trust than you, if you confide
yourself to my protecting care."

"Are you indeed my friend?" she asked, in a softened voice, with a
remarkable change in the expression of her countenance. "I thought you
hated me."

"Hated you! What a suspicion!"

"You have always been cold and distant--never s