r a life with many reverses and much to grieve
over, my heaviest heart-sore was ever having known that man?"

"You surely cared for him once?"

"Never, never!" burst she out, violently. "When we met first, I was the
daily victim of more cruelties than might have crushed a dozen women.
His pity was very precious, and I felt towards him as that poor prisoner
we read of felt towards the toad that shared his dungeon. It was one
living thing to sympathize with, and I could not afford to relinquish
it, and so I wrote all manner of things,--love-letters I suppose the
world would call them, though some one or two might perhaps decipher the
mystery of their meaning, and see in them all the misery of a hopeless
woman's heart. No matter, such as they were, they were confessions wrung
out by the rack, and need not have been recorded as calm avowals, still
less treasured up as bonds to be paid off."

"But if you made him love you--"

"Made him love me!" repeated she, with insolent scorn; "how well you
know your friend! But even _he_ never pretended _that_. My letters
in his eyes were I O U's, and no more. Like many a one in distress, I
promised any rate of interest demanded of me; he saw my misery, and
dictated the terms."

"I think you judge him hardly."

"Perhaps so. It is little matter now. The question is, will he give up
these letters, and on what conditions?"

"I think if you were yourself to see him--"

"_I_ to see him! Never, never! There is no consequence I would not
accept rather than meet that man again."

"Are you not taking counsel from passion rather than your real interest
here?"

"I may be; but passion is the stronger. What sum in money do you suppose
he would take? I can command nigh seven hundred pounds. Would that
suffice?"

"I cannot even guess this point; but if you like to confide to me the
negotiation--"

"Is it not in your hands already?" asked she, bluntly. "Have you not
come out here for the purpose?"

"No, on my honor," said he, solemnly; "for once you are mistaken."

"I am sorry for it. I had hoped for a speedier settlement," said
she, coldly. "And so, you really came abroad in search of theatrical
novelties. Oh dear!" sighed she, "Trover said so; and it is _so_
confounding when any one tells the truth!"

She paused, and there was a silence of some minutes. At last she said:
"Clara disposed of, and these letters in my possession, and I should
feel like one saved from shipwreck. Do you