e _you_."

"The story of the murder again revived; the life you led, the letters
themselves revealing it; the orphan child robbed of her inheritance; the
imposture of your existence abroad here!--what variety in the scenes!
what diversity in the interests!"

"I am far from rich, but I would pay you liberally, Paul," said she, in
a voice low and collected.

"Cannot you see, woman, that by this language you are wrecking your last
hope of safety?" cried he, insolently. "Is it not plain to you that you
are a fool to insult the hand that can crush you?"

"But I _am_ crushed; I can fall no lower," whispered she, tremulously.

"Oh, dearest Loo, if you would forgive me for the past!"

"I cannot--I cannot!" burst she out, in a voice scarcely above a
whisper. "I have done all I could, but I cannot!"

"If you only knew how I was tempted to it, Loo! If you but heard the
snare that was laid for me!"

A scornful toss of her head was all her answer.

"It is in my consciousness of the wrong I have done you that I seek this
reparation, Loo," said he, eagerly. "When I speak otherwise, it is my
passion gives utterance to the words. My heart is, however, true to
you."

"Will you let me have my letters, and at what cost? I tell you again, I
am not rich, but I will pay largely, liberally here."

"Let me confess it, Loo," said he, in a trembling tone, "these letters
are the one last link between us. It is not for a menace I would keep
them,--so help me Heaven, the hour of _your_ shame would be that of _my_
death,--but I cling to them as the one tie that binds my fate to yours.
I feel that when I surrender them, that tie is broken; that I am nothing
to you; that you would hear my name unmoved, and see me pass without a
notice. Bethink you, then, that you ask me for what alone attaches me to
existence."

"I cannot understand such reasonings," said she, coldly. "These letters
have no other value save the ruin they can work me. If not employed to
that end, they might as well blacken in the fire or moulder into dust
You tell me you are not in search of any vengeance on me, and it is much
to say, for I never injured you, while you have deeply injured _me_.
Why, therefore, not give up what you own to be so useless?"

"For the very reason I have given you, Loo; that, so long as I hold
them, I have my interest in your heart, and you cannot cease to feel
bound up with my destiny."

"And is not this vengeance?" asked she, quietly. "Can