er to obey the degrading command.

Yes--that lovely, educated and accomplished lady actually took off the
vile ruffian's dirty shoes, with her delicate hands; then with an
elegant pearl handled pen-knife, she scraped off the filth, and
afterwards, at the orders of her _master_, washed them with rose-water
in a china ewer, and wiped them with a cambric handkerchief--and all in
the presence of her negro footman.

This task being completed, the Dead Man requested Nero to retire; and
then he inflicted new and nameless indignities upon his poor victim.
Once, when she shudderingly refused to obey some horrible request, he
struck her violently in the face, and the crimson blood dyed her fair
cheek.

To be brief, the stupendous villain, in the diabolical malignity of his
nature, derived a fierce pleasure from ill-treating and outraging that
frail, but to him inoffensive woman. Her defenceless situation might
have excited compassion in the breast of a less brutal ruffian; but when
had his stony heart ever known compassion?

Nero entered the room to inform his mistress that Mr. Hedge was below,
having called on his accustomed evening visit.

'Wash the blood from your face, then go and receive him,' said the Dead
Man. 'I shall station myself in the adjoining room, to see and hear all
that passes between you.'

Poor Julia removed from her face the sanguinary stains, and endeavoring
to arrange her hair so as to conceal the wound which had been inflicted
upon her; all in vain, however, for Mr. Hedge noticed it the first
moment she entered the room.

'My own dear Julia,' said he, in a tone of much concern, and taking her
hand--'what has caused that terrible bruise upon your cheek? And my God!
you look pale and ill--speak, dearest, and tell me what is the matter.'

She could not reply; but burst into tears; the old gentleman's kindness
of manner, contrasted with the savage cruelty of her persecutor, had
overcome her. Mr. Hedge strove to comfort her, as a father might comfort
a distressed child; and his kindness filled her soul with remorse, in
view of the great deceit she was practising upon him. Still, she could
not muster sufficient resolution to confess that deceit. Considering
herself just on the eve of securing a great prize, she could not bring
herself to ruin all by a confession of her true character. In answer to
his renewed inquiries, she stated that her wound had been caused by a
severe fall; but she assured him that