death-gurgle is in the throat, and the eye swims beneath the last dull
film--when remembrance peoples the chamber with Hell, and his cowardice
would falter forth its dastard recantation to Heaven--then--may I be
there?"

There was a long pause, only broken by the woman's sobs, which she
appeared endeavouring to stifle. At last the man rose, and in a tone so
soft that it seemed literally like music, addressed her in the most
endearing terms. She soon yielded to their persuasion, and replied to
them with interest. "Spite of the stings of my remorse," she said, "as
long as I lose not you, I will lose life, honour, hope, even soul
itself!"

They both quitted the spot as she said this.

O, that woman's love! how strong is it in its weakness! how beautiful in
its guilt!




CHAPTER XXII.

At length the treacherous snare was laid,
Poor pug was caught--to town convey'd;
There sold. How envied was his doom,
Made captive in a lady's room!
--Gay's Fables.

I was sitting alone a morning or two after this adventure, when Bedos