o not understand how any fell influence of mine
should cause you to break the heart of an innocent woman by your guilty
conduct with another."

"I did not seek to refer the blame of those early sins to any influence
of yours," he answered. "How could I, when they were committed before
your birth? In the very dust I acknowledge those deeds of villany and
vileness. But too late is my grief and repentance. The blow has fallen,
and my doom is fixed."

He leaned his arms forward upon the table, and, sinking his head upon
them, uttered a low groan of hopeless, despairing misery.

Tears sprang to Louise's eyes, and, approaching, she dropped on her
knees at his side, and laid her hand on his arm, "Do you remember a
promise I gave you long ago?" she asked softly. "If I have seemed
forgetful, let me renew it now."

He still retained his attitude of dejection, and seemed regardless of
her pleading tones.

"You will not hear me," she said at length, in a voice broken with
grief, "when I kneel at your feet and ask your pardon."

"_You_ kneel to _me_!" said he, suddenly grasping her arm and striving
to raise her from the humble position. "Rise, I entreat, if you would
not drive me mad!"

She stood before him, with tears falling fast from her beautiful eyes.
"Who is the cruel one now?" she asked. "Who throws me aside and refuses
forgiveness when it is repentantly implored?"

"What signifies the pardon of a wretch like me?" said he, in a tone of
agony. "What is he? what can he be to you?"

Turning her head aside, she said in a soft, trembling voice, "He is what
he has ever been, and still may be,--my world of love and happiness!"
Her cheeks flushed, as, lifting her eyes, she encountered his earnest
gaze. She sought to move away, but he was by her side. "Louise! Louise!"
said he, in a tone of thrilling emotion, "Dare I hope that you love me
still?"

There was no word; but she put her arm round his neck and sank weeping
on his bosom. He pressed her again and again to his heart. "Ah, indeed!"
said he, at length, "this is the luxury of woe. To know at last this
love is mine, and be separated forever from its dear embraces by the
cold walls of a prison. Stern justice can inflict no pang like this."

"Talk not of separation," said she, lifting her head, and revealing a
face redolent with happiness. "No hand shall take me from you save the
hand of death!"

He gazed with unspeakable tenderness on her glowing features, and said