“Merciful Heaven! how narrowly have I escaped!” exclaimed Emily, laying her head in giddy faintness upon the shoulder of Henry, who, at the moment he was at liberty, had flown to her side.

At this moment Mr. Faxon entered, and saw, with astonishment, the evidence of the recent fray.

“Justice is triumphant, I see,” said he, taking Emily by the hand, and affectionately congratulating her upon her return to Bellevue.

“Heaven has been more indulgent to me than I deserve,—­has preserved me from a thousand perils I knew not of; and has, at last, placed me again in this haven of repose!” replied Emily.

“Bless His holy name, my child; for, though we forget Him, He can never forget us!” said the minister, devoutly.

“Well, gentlemen,” interrupted Jaspar, with a bitter scowl, “I trust, when you have finished your cant, you will depart, and leave me in peace.”

“We will, at this lady’s pleasure,” said Dr. Vaudelier.

“Hell! would you trifle with me?” roared Jaspar, rising in a passion.  “Would you turn me out of my house?”

“Never yours, Mr. Dumont!  Heaven has restored the innocent and oppressed to her rights,” answered Mr. Faxon, calmly.

“Uncle,” said Emily, earnestly, “let me entreat you to lay aside the terrible aspect you have worn, and be again even as you once were.  The past shall be forgotten, and I will strive to make the future happy.”

Jaspar gazed at her with a vacant stare, and, muttering some unintelligible words, sunk back into his chair, and buried his face beneath his hands.  The consciousness of the utter failure of the plan he had cherished for years, and the terrible obloquy to which his crime subjected him, rushed like an earthquake into his mind.  He was completely subdued in spirit, and groaned in his anguish.

“The way of the transgressor is hard,” remarked Mr. Faxon, in pitying tones.

These words were heard by Jaspar.  They touched his pride.  He could not endure the notes of pity.  He raised his head, and his eyes glared with the fury of a demon.

“Leave the house, sir!” gasped he, choking with passion.  “Leave my house, or I will tear you limb from limb!  I can do it, and I dare do it!” and he started suddenly to the floor.  “Yes, I dare do it, if you mock me with your canting words!”

His eyes rolled like a maniac’s, and he gasped for breath, as he continued,

“I am a murderer already!—­a double murderer!  Dalhousie and his wife have felt my vengeance.  They have starved like dogs!  Their prison is their tomb!”

“Compose yourself, Mr. Dumont,” said Mr. Faxon; “your soul is still free from the heavy burden of such a guilt.  Dalhousie and his wife live.”

“You lie, canting hypocrite!  No mortal arm can save them.  They have been eight days in my slave jail.  Here are the keys,” gasped Jaspar, drawing them from his pocket.