a; will you
not speak to me?" said her lover.

What could her aunt do to her?--what Peter Steinmarc?--what could the
world do, worse than had been done already? They had told her that
she was a castaway, and she had half believed it. In the moments of
her deepest misery she had believed it. If that were so, how could
she fall lower? Would it not be sweet to her to hear one word of
kindness in her troubles, to catch one note that should not be laden
with rebuke? She opened the door, and stood before him in the gloom
of the passage.

"Linda,--dear, dearest Linda;"--and before she knew that he was so
near her, he had caught her hand.

"Hush! they are below;--they will hear you."

"No; I could be up among the rafters before any one could be on
the first landing; and no one should hear a motion." Linda, in her
surprise, looked up through the darkness, as though she could see
the passage of which he spoke in the narrowing stair amidst the roof.
What a terrible man was this, who had come to her bedroom door, and
could thus talk of escaping amidst the rafters!

"Why are you here?" she whispered.

"Because I love you better than the light of heaven. Because I would
go through fire and water to be near you. Linda,--dearest Linda, is
it not true that you are in sorrow?"

"Indeed yes," she said, shaking her head, while she still left her
hand in his.

"And shall I not find an escape for you?"

"No, no; that is impossible."

"I will try at least," said he.

"You can do nothing for me,--nothing."

"You love me, Linda? Say that you love me." She remained silent, but
her hand was still within his grasp. She could not lie to him, and
say that she loved him not. "Linda, you are all the world to me. The
sweetest music that I could hear would be one word to say that I am
dear to you." She said not a word, but he knew now that she loved
him. He knew it well. It is the instinct of the lover to know that
his mistress has given him her heart heartily, when she does not deny
the gift with more than sternness,--with cold cruelty. Yes; he knew
her secret now; and pulling her close to him by her hand, by her arm,
he wound his own arm round her waist tightly, and pressed his face
close to hers. "Linda, Linda,--my own, my own!--O God! how happy I
am!" She suffered it all, but spoke not a word. His hot kisses were
rained upon her lips, but she gave him never a kiss in return. He
pressed her with all the muscles of his body, and she s