nd then rejoined in an altered tone, "Then, then
will this parching thirst be quenched at last. I tell you, woman, that
it is many months since I have known a day--night--hour, in which my
life has been as the life of other men. My whole soul has been melted
down into one burning, burning thought. Feel this hand--ay, you may well
start--but what is the fever of the frame to that within?"

Here the voice sunk so low as to be inaudible. The woman seemed as if
endeavouring to sooth him; at length she said--"But poor Tyrrell--you
will not, surely, suffer him to die of actual starvation?"

The man paused for a few moments, and then replied--"Night and day, I
pray to God, upon my bended knees, only one unvarying, unceasing prayer,
and that is--'When the last agonies shall be upon that man--when, sick
with weariness, pain, disease, hunger, he lies down to die--when the
death-gurgle is in the throat, and the eye swims beneath the last dull
film--when remembrance peoples the chamber with Hell, and his cowardice
would falter forth its dastard recantation to Heaven--then--may I be
there?"

There was a long pause, only broken by the woman's sobs, which she
appeared endeavouring to stifle. At last the man rose, and in a tone
so soft that it seemed literally like music, addressed her in the most
endearing terms. She soon yielded to their persuasion, and replied to
them with interest. "Spite of the stings of my remorse," she said,
"as long as I lose not you, I will lose life, honour, hope, even soul
itself!"

They both quitted the spot as she said this.

O, that woman's love! how strong is it in its weakness! how beautiful in
its guilt!

CHAPTER XXII.

At length the treacherous snare was laid, Poor pug was caught--to town
convey'd; There sold. How envied was his doom, Made captive in a lady's
room!--Gay's Fables.

I was sitting alone a morning or two after this adventure, when Bedos
entering, announced une dame. This dame was a fine tall thing, dressed
out like a print in the Magasin des Modes. She sate herself down,
threw up her veil, and, after a momentary pause, asked me if I liked my
apartment?

"Very much," said I, somewhat surprised at the nature of the
interrogatory.

"Perhaps you would wish it altered in some way?" rejoined the lady.

"Non--mille remercimens!" said I--"you are very good to be so interested
in my accommodation."

"Those curtains might be better arranged--that sofa replaced with a more
ele