to offend you in asking after--"

"Young man, beware!" Mr. Hurst had in some degree mastered himself,
but the huskiness of his voice, the vivid gleam of his eyes, gave
warning that the fire within him though smothered was not quenched.

"I am silent, sir," cried the wretch, completely cowed by the strong
will of his antagonist.

"I know all--all, and have but few words to cast upon a thing so vile
as you have become. If I submit to your presence for a moment it is
because that agony must be endured in order that I may cast you from
me at once, like the viper that had stung me."

"Sir, these are hard words," faltered Jameson; but Mr. Hurst lifted
his hand sharply, and went on.

"You want money. How much did you expect to obtain from me?"

"I--I--this is too abrupt, Mr. Hurst, you impute motives--"

"I say, sir," cried the merchant, sternly interrupting the stammered
attempt at defense, "I say you have done this for money--impunity for
your crime first, and then money. You see I know you thoroughly."

The wretch shrunk from the withering smile that swept over that white
face; he looked the thing he was--a worthless, miserable coward, with
all the natural audacity of his character dashed aside by the strong
will of the man he had wronged.

"You are too much excited, Mr. Hurst, I will call some other time," he
faltered out.

"Now--now, sir, I give you impunity! I will give you money. Say, how
much will release me from the infamy of your presence; I will pay
well, sir, as I would the physician who drives a pestilence from my
hearth?"

"Mr. Hurst, what do you wish--what am I to do?"

"You are to leave this country now and forever--leave it without
speaking the name of my daughter. You are never to step your foot
again upon the land which she inhabits. Do this, and I will invest
fifty thousand dollars for your benefit, the income to be paid you in
any country that you may choose to infest, any except this."

"And what if I refuse to sell my liberty, my--" he paused, for Mr.
Hurst was keenly watching him, and he dared not mention Florence as
his wife, though the word trembled on his lip.

"What then," said the merchant, firmly, "why you pass from this door
to the presence of a magistrate--from thence to prison--after that to
trial--not on a single indictment, but on charges urged one after
another that shall keep you during half your life within the walls of
a convict's cell."

"But remember--"

"I do remem