d yourself, and you have a friend ever watchful. So
fear not, nor despond!

"Fail me--and, failing truth and honour, failing to make Paullus happy, you
_do_ fail me! Fail me, and nothing, in the world's history or fable, shall
match the greatness of my vengeance--of your anguish!

"Fail me! and yours shall be, for ages, the name that men shall quote,
when they would tell of untold misery, of utter shame, and desolation, and
despair.

"Farewell."

The letter dropped from her hand; she sat aghast and speechless, terrified
beyond measure, and yet unable to determine, or divine, even, to what its
dark warnings and darker denunciations pointed.

Just at this instant, as between terror and amazement she was on the verge
of fainting, a clanging step was heard without; the crimson draperies that
covered the door, were put aside; and, clad in glittering armour, Paullus
Arvina stood before her.

She started up, with a strange haggard smile flashing across her pallid
face, staggered a step or two to meet him, and sank in an agony of tears
upon his bosom.

CHAPTER XV.

THE CONFESSION.

To err is human; to forgive--divine!

The astonishment of Paullus, at this strange burst of feeling on the part
of one usually so calm, so self-controlled, and seemingly so unimpassioned
as that sweet lady, may be more easily imagined than described.

That she, whose maidenly reserve had never heretofore permitted the
slightest, the most innocent freedom of her accepted lover, should cast
herself thus into his arms, should rest her head on his bosom, was in
itself enough to surprise him; but when to this were added the violent
convulsive sobs, which shook her whole frame, the flood of tears, which
streamed from her eyes, the wild and disjointed words, which fell from her
pale lips, he was struck dumb with something not far removed from terror.

That it was fear, which shook her thus, he could not credit; for during
all the fearful sounds and rumours of the past night, she had been as firm
as a hero.

Yet he knew not, dared not think, to what other cause he might attribute
it.

He spoke to her soothingly, tenderly, but his voice faltered as he spoke.

"Nay! nay! be not alarmed, dear girl!" he said. "The tumults are all, long
since, quelled; the danger has all vanished with the darkness, and the
storm. Cheer up, my own, sweet, Julia."

And, as he spoke, he passed his arm about her graceful form, and drew her
c