I endured. He took advantage of the confidence to make advances to me.
My heart--if I had a heart--would not have been difficult to win. It
was a theft not worth guarding against. Somehow, I cannot say wherefore,
this man was odious to me, more odious than the very tyrant who trampled
on me; but I had sold myself for a vengeance,--yes, as completely as if
the devil had drawn up the bond and I had signed it. My pact with myself
was to be revenged on him, come what might afterwards. I have told you
that I hated this man; but I had no choice. The whole wide world was
there, and not another in it had ever offered to be my defender; nor,
indeed, did he. No, the creature was a coward; he only promised that if
he found me as a waif he would shelter me; he was too cautious to risk
a finger in my cause, and would only claim what none disputed with him.
And I was abject enough to be content with that, to be grateful for it,
to write letters full of more than gratitude, protesting--Oh, spare
me! if even yet I have shame to make me unable to repeat what, in my
madness, I may have said to him. I thought I could go on throughout it
all, but I cannot. The end was, my husband died; yes! he was dead!
and this man--who I know, for I have the proofs, had shown my letters
to my husband--claimed me in marriage; he insisted that I should be his
wife, or meet all the shame and exposure of seeing my letters printed
and circulated through the world, with the story of my life annexed. I
refused, fled from England, concealed myself, changed my name, and did
everything I could to escape discovery; but in vain. He found me out;
he is now upon my track; he will be here--here, at Rome--within the
week, and, with these letters in his hand, repeat his threat, he says,
for the last time, and I believe him." The strength which had sustained
her up to this now gave way, and she sank heavily to the ground, like
one stricken by a fit. It was some time before she rallied; for O'Shea,
fearful of any exposure, had not called others to his aid, but, opening
the window, suffered the rude wind to blow over her face and temples.
"There, there," said she, smiling sadly, "it is but seldom I show so
poor a spirit, but I am somewhat broken of late. Leave me to rest my
head on this chair, and do not lift me from the ground yet. I 'll be
better presently. Have I cut my forehead?"

"It is but a slight scratch. You struck the foot of the table in your
fall."

"There," s