ood. You do not understand my
father's feelings. The very sight of you would rouse him into frenzy;
there is no name which might fall upon his ear with deeper offence than
yours. Not yet, Arthur, the time has not yet come."

"I have been patient," said Butler, "patient, Mildred, for your sake."

"To try him now," continued Mildred, whose feelings still ran, with a
heady impetuosity, upon this newly-awakened and engrossing topic; "now,
in the very depth of his bitterest aversion to what he terms an impious
rebellion, and whilst his heart is yet moved with an almost
preternatural hate against all who uphold the cause, and to you,
especially, above whose head there hovers, in his belief, some horrid
impending curse that shall bring desolation upon him and all who claim
an interest in his blood--no, no, it must not be!"

"Another year of pent-up vexation, self-reproach and anxious concealment
must then glide by, and perhaps another," said Butler. "Well, I must be
content to bear it, though, in the mean time, my heart bleeds for you,
Mildred; it is a painful trial."

"For good or for evil our vow is now registered in heaven," replied
Mildred, "and we must abide the end."

"I would not have it other than it is, dearest girl, except this stern
resolve of your father--not for the world's wealth," said Butler warmly.
"But you spoke of this Tyrrel--what manner of man is he? How might I
know him?"

"To know him would answer no good end, Arthur. His soul is absorbed in
stratagem, and my dear father is its prey. I too am grievously tormented
by him; but it is no matter, I need not vex your ear with the tale of
his annoyance."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Butler with a sudden expression of resentment.

"All that concerns my father, concerns me," said Mildred. "It is my evil
destiny, Arthur, to be compelled to endure the associations of men,
whose principles, habits, purposes, are all at war with my own. Alas,
such are now my father's constant companions. This man Tyrrel, whose
very name is a cheat put on, I doubt not, to conceal him from
observation--goes farther than the rest in the boldness of his practice.
I have some misgiving that he is better acquainted with the interest you
take in me, than we might suspect possible to a stranger. I fear him.
And then, Arthur, it is my peculiar misery that he has lately set up a
disgusting pretension to my regard. Oh! I could give him, if my sex had
strength to strike, the dagger, sooner than