he shaft that
confined its folds. She stopped not to see the mischief she had done,
for she was so accustomed to hear a crash and dash behind her, it is not
probable she even noticed it.

"Thank God!" exclaimed Ernest, before the echo of their departing
footsteps had died on the ear. "Thank God! we are once more alone."

* * * * *

Mr. Harland had visited us but seldom since the words of passion which
might have been followed by a scene of strife, but for woman's
restraining presence, had fallen from the lips of Ernest. One evening,
he called and asked a private interview with Ernest, and they
immediately passed into the library. I saw that his countenance was
disturbed, and vague apprehensions filled my mind. I could hear their
voices in earnest, excited tones; and though I knew there was no
revelation to be made which Ernest had not already heard from me, I felt
a conviction amounting to certainty, that this mysterious interview had
some connection with my unhappy father, and boded evil to me. Mr.
Harland did not probably remain more than an hour, but every moment
seemed an hour, drawn out by suspense and apprehension. He reentered the
parlor with Ernest, but left immediately; while Ernest walked silently
back and forth, as he always did when agitated,--his brows contracted
with stern, intense thought. He was excessively pale, and though his
eyes did not emit the lightning glance of passion, they flashed and
burned like heated metal.

I dared not ask him the cause of his emotion, I could only watch him
with quick-drawn breath, and lips sealed with dread. Suddenly he put his
hand in his bosom, and snatching thence the fatal casket I had left in
my father's crime-stained hands, he hurled it to the floor, and trampled
it under his feet.

"Behold," he cried, with inexpressible bitterness and grief, "my
mother's gift, her sacred bridal gift,--desecrated, polluted,
lost,--worse than lost! I will not upbraid you. I would spare you the
pang I myself endure,--but think of the agonies in which a spirit like
mine must writhe, to know that _your_ name, that the name of my _wife_
is blazoned to the world, associated with that of a vile forger, an
abandoned villain, whose crimes are even now blackening the newspapers,
and glutting the greedy appetite of slander! O rash, misguided girl!
what demon tempted you to such fatal imprudence?"

I sat immovable, frozen, my eyes fixed upon the carpet, my