hearts by the agonising grief of the wife of Halloway."

"That this was the case in part, I admit," returned
Captain Blessington. "The feelings of the men partook of
a mixed character. It was evident that grief for Halloway,
compassion for his wife, secret indignation and, it may
be, disgust at the severity of your father, and sorrow
for his innocent family, who were included in that
denunciation, predominated with equal force in their
hearts at the same moment. There was an expression that
told how little they would have pitied any anguish of
mind inflicted on their colonel, provided his children,
whom they loved, were not to be sacrificed to its
accomplishment."

"You admit, then, Blessington, although indirectly,"
replied the young De Haldimar in a voice of touching
sorrow, "that the consummation of the sacrifice IS to be
looked for. Alas! it is that on which my mind perpetually
lingers; yet, Heaven knows, my fears are not for myself."

"You mistake me, dearest Charles. I look upon the
observations of the unhappy woman as the ravings of a
distracted mind--the last wild outpourings of a broken
heart, turning with animal instinct on the hand that has
inflicted its death-blow."

"Ah, why did she except no one member of that family!"
said the unhappy De Haldimar, pursuing rather the chain
of his reflections than replying to the observation of