ver lay before any man than on
that morning!"

"Was _she_ with you, Ludlow?" asked the other, whose deep voice recalled
the great Mr. Stocmar. "Was _she_ with you?"

"No; she refused to come. There was nothing I did n't do, or threaten
to do, but in vain. I menaced her with every sort of publicity and
exposure. I swore I 'd write the whole story,--giving a likeness of her
from the miniature in my possession; that I 'd give her letters to the
world in fac-simile of her own hand; and that, while the town rang with
the tragedy as the newspapers called it, they should have a dash of
melodrama, or high comedy too, to heighten the interest. All in vain;
she braved everything--defied everything."

"There are women with that sort of masculine temperament--"

"Masculine you call it!" cried the other, scoffingly; "you never made
such a blunder in your life. They are entirely and essentially womanly.
You 'd break twenty men down, smash them like rotten twigs, before you
'd succeed in turning one woman of this stamp from her fixed will. I
'll tell you another thing, too, Stocmar," added he, in a lower voice:
"they do not fear the world the way men do. Would you believe it?
Collins and myself left the island in a fishing-boat, and she--the
woman--went coolly on board the mail-packet with her maid and child,
and sat down to breakfast with the passengers, one of whom had actually
served on the jury."

"What pluck! I call that pluck."

"It's more like madness than real courage," said the other, peevishly;
and for some minutes they walked on side by side without a word.

"If I remember rightly," said Stocmar, "she was not put on her trial?"

"No; there was a great discussion about it, and many blamed the Crown
lawyers for not including her; but, in truth, there was not a shadow
of evidence to be brought against her. His treatment of her might have
suggested the possibility of any vengeance."

"Was it so cruel?"

"Cruel is no word for it. There was not an insult nor an outrage spared
her. She passed one night in the deep snow in the garden, and was
carried senseless into the house at morning, and only rallied after days
of treatment. He fired at her another time."

"Shot her!"

"Yes, shot her through the shoulder,--sent the bullet through
here,--because she would not write to Ogden a begging letter, entreating
him to assist her with a couple of hundred pounds."

"Oh, that was too gross!" exclaimed Stocmar.

"He told he