hat next could be done.

Hamilton and Ellen were both severely wounded, the ball having passed
through the right side of each, but no vital part seemed to have suffered,
and the wounds were not deemed mortal of themselves, but might prove fatal
if not properly attended to. Durant's first care was to have them dressed
and bound up; and he used every means within his reach to expedite their
recovery. He had them taken to a place of safety, a kind of cove, known to
himself and Ramsey, which was in an obscure and unfrequented spot, where
they were carefully nursed until in a fair way for speedy recovery.

Until now, Durant had been careful to say and do nothing that might tend to
excite the minds of his captives, fearing that inflamation might ensue, and
rob him of his anticipated triumph and revenge. But so soon as their
convalescence was distinctly manifest, the crisis and the danger past, he
began to torment his victims; the one of his wounded vanity, his
disappointed avarice, and his venomous hate; the other of his envy and
jealous malice. In consummating his revenge upon Ellen, he would not only
gratify his malicious and vengeful nature, but minister, also, to the
basest passions of a corrupt human heart. Seating himself in her presence
one day, he said:

"I now understand why it was that I found no more favor in your sight while
so foolishly attempting to win your love. Your heart was already occupied,
a circumstance you took good care to conceal. Thank my stars, my rival is
now in my hands! And do you know, my dear, that he is a doomed man? If not,
permit me to inform you of the fact."

"Sir, what has he ever done to you that you should wish to harm him?"

"Done! Has he not robbed me of your love, your hand, and made my life a
hopeless desert and a weary waste?"

"No, sir, he has not. My heart was his before I saw you, and _you_, sir,
attempted the part of a robber, not Mr. Hamilton. Now judge yourself by
your own rule and what fate should be yours?"

"Ah, very fine logic, truly; but, unfortunately, you have not the power to
back it up. I presume you have never beheld the sacrifice of a victim on a
funeral pile, nor more than read of prisoners burned at the stake; how
would such a spectacle affect you, think?"

This was said with a peculiar expression, and was evidently intended to
make a strong impression; but whatever its real effect upon the mind of his
auditor, no visible tokens of dread or pain were manif