“Hear me, then! your life is in my hands, and at my mercy.  There are none present who could interfere and arrest the blow.  My dagger is even now upon your bosom—­do you not feel it?  At a word—­a single suggestion of my thought—­it performs its office, and for this night’s defeat I am half revenged.  You may arrest my arm—­you may procure your release—­even more—­you may escape from the bondage of that union with me for which your uncle stands pledged, if you please.”

“Speak—­say—­how!” was the eager exclamation of the maiden when this last suggestion met her ears.

“Put me on the scent—­say on what route have you sent this boy, that I may realize the revenge I so often dream of.”

“Never, never, as I hope to live.  I would rather you should strike me dead on the spot.”

“Why, so I will,” he exclaimed furiously, and his arm rose and the weapon descended, but he arrested the stroke as it approached her.

“No! not yet.  There will be time enough for this, and you will perhaps be more ready and resigned when I have got rid of this youth in whom you are so much interested.  I need not disguise my purpose to you—­you must have known it, when conspiring for its defeat; and now, Lucy, be assured, I shall not slumber in pursuit of him.  I may be delayed, my revenge may be protracted, but I shall close with him at last.  With holding the clue which you may unfold, can not serve him very greatly; and having it in your hands, you may serve yourself and me.  Take my offer—­put me on his route, so that he shall not escape me, and be free henceforward from pursuit, or, as you phrase it, from persecution of mine.”

“You offer highly, very highly, Guy Rivers, and I should be tempted to anything, save this.  But I have not taken this step to undo it.  I shall give you no clue, no assistance which may lead to crime and to the murder of the innocent.  Release my hand, sir, and suffer me to retire.”

“You have the means of safety and release in your own hands—­a single condition complied with, and, so far as I am concerned, they are yours.  Where is he gone—­where secreted!  What is the route which you have advised him to take?  Speak, and to the point, Lucy Munro, for I may not longer be trifled with.”

“He is safe, and by this time, I hope, beyond your reach.  I tell you thus much, because I feel that it can not yield you more satisfaction than it yields to me.”

“It is in vain, woman, that you would trifle with and delay me; he can not escape me in the end.  All these woods are familiar to me, in night as in day, as the apartment in which we stand; and towards this boy I entertain a feeling which will endue me with an activity and energy as unshrinking in the pursuit as the appetite for revenge is keen which gives them birth and impulse.  I hate him with a sleepless, an unforgiving hate, that can not be quieted.  He has dishonored me in the presence of these men—­he has been the instrument