s! But stop!" and he raised his head, the hot and inflaming tears
still gathering in his eyes, "she cannot surely thus have acted,
and yet--and yet--oh! Mrs. Headley, if you knew the desolation of
my heart, you would pity me. It is crushed, crushed!"

During this painful ebullition of contradictory feeling, in which
pride and love combated fiercely for the ascendency, Mrs. Headley
had been deeply affected; but feeling the necessity for going
through the task she had imposed upon herself, she strove as much
as possible to appear calm and collected, even severe. His
last appeal brought tears from her own eyes.

"Indeed, indeed, Ronayne," she exclaimed, pressing his hand fervently
between her palms, "I do pity you, I do sympathize with you, even
as a mother, in the desolation of your heavily-stricken heart. I
had dreaded this emotion, and only my strong regard for yourself
gave me strength to undertake the infliction of the counter wound,
which I knew alone could preserve you from utter misery and despair;
and yet, if you would cherish the illusion, if you would not that
the stern reality should sear up each avenue to hope, to each
sweeter recollection of the past, I will, if you desire it, abstain."

"Nay, not so, Mrs. Headley," replied the unhappy officer; "you are
very cruel, but I know you mean it well; proceed--let me be told
all. The stronger your recital, the more confirmatory of the utter
destruction of my dreams of happiness, and the better for myself.
I have already said that scorn and contempt alone can dwell in my
heart, if that which I surmise you are about to relate be but found
to be true. I am ready for the torture--begin!" and, as if with
a dogged determination to hear, and suffer while he heard, he leaned
his elbow on the back of his chair, and covered his eyes with his
hand.

The recital need not be repeated here. All that had occurred on
the preceding day, and that which is already known to the reader,
Mrs. Headley now communicated, adding that she had been undecided
in her opinion on the subject, until the answer to the question
put to Von Voltenberg convinced her that the whole thing had been
planned, and that she had willingly thrown herself into the power
of Wau-nan-gee. The few guns, she concluded, were evidently a signal
of which she availed herself by instantly galloping off, while
Ronayne was yet at some distance from her, and unhorsed.

Prepared as the unhappy officer had been for intelli