t she was no more to him than "Number
Three," one of his tormentors from whom he longed to get free, one who
annoyed him with letters. All this he had confessed to me. Yet the
moment that I told him my story, and informed him of her identity with
the Lady of the Ice, at once he changed about, and declared he would
never give her up.

All of which reminded me forcibly of the language of a venerable female
friend, who used to hold up her hands and exclaim, "Oh, dear! Oh, my!
Oh, the corruption of the human heart! Oh, dear! Oh, my!"

On the other hand, I was not so blind but that I could see that Jack's
impudent and ridiculous claim to Hiss O'Halloran had made her appear in
a somewhat different light from that in which I had hitherto viewed
her. Until that time I had no well-defined notions. My mind vibrated,
between her image and that of Marion. But now Miss O'Halloran suddenly
became all in all to me. Jack's claim on her made me fully conscious of
my superior claim, and this I determined to enforce at all hazards. And
thus the one end, aim, and purpose of my life, suddenly and almost
instantaneously darted up within me, and referred to making Miss
O'Halloran my own.

But, if this was to be done, I saw that it must be done quickly. Jack's
blood was up. He had declared that he would win her, and had departed
with this declaration. I knew him well enough to feel sure that his
action would be prompt. He was capable of any act of folly or of
desperation. If I could hope to contend successfully against him, it
would be necessary for me to be as foolish and as desperate. I must go
in for a headlong game. It was to be a regular steeple-chase. No
dilly-dallying--no shuffling--no coquetting--no wooing--but bold,
instant, and immediate action. And why not? Our intercourse on the ice
had been less than a day, but those hours were protracted singly to the
duration of years, and we had been forced into intimacy by the peril of
our path and the horror of our way. We were beaten together by the
tempest, rocked by the ice, we sank together in the wave, together we
crossed the tottering Ice-ridge--together we evaded the fall of
avalanches. Again and again, on that one unparalleled journey, she had
received her life from me. Was all this to count for nothing? This!
Why, this was every thing. What could her recollections of Jack be when
compared to her recollections of me? For one who came to her as I had
come there need be no delay. Eno