you, sorely afflicting to me; but I shall strive to do my duty, even with the fear of offending before my eyes.  As already shown, your daughter’s evidence, either publicly or privately given, must lay upon me the weight of crime; in addition to this, I must now undertake the formidable task of informing you that my enemy, who I have already told you has an eye to your daughter’s hand, is regarded by her with favor.  Do not be startled; I am but telling you the plain truth, which, unless a stop can be put to the plotting now on foot, you will but too soon find out to your sorrow.  This fellow, who desires to rival me in the affections of your daughter, has been pouring into her ear tales of every sort to prejudice her against me—­and I fear with but too much success.  Lately, she avoids me whenever it is convenient to do so, while she often walks out with my—­no, he is too contemptible to be called a rival.

“You now see the state of the case; you see on what a slippery place I stand, and how much need there is of being wary and cautious where and how I step.  My fair name is in danger of being tarnished; my prospects for life blighted; my hopes destroyed and myself suspected of being the associate of villains.  And all this has been so artfully contrived, I find myself in the meshes of the net woven to entrap me, ere I had become aware of any designs being formed against me, or that I had enemies who were endeavoring to compass my ruin; and, worse than all, when these overwhelming truths are made manifest to me, and my very soul burns to extricate myself from the difficulties that surround me, and fasten the crime where it belongs, and crush the miscreant with his own guilt, I am tied.  So encircled am I, that every attempt I might make to escape the toils of the cowardly foe who has laid his plans so deep and darkly, will only add to the horrors of my situation.  Pardon me, then, for withholding the name of him who is striving to rum me; but oh, if possible, save your daughter from his grasp!”

“How can I without knowing his name?  Eveline has much company and many admirers; but of all the number, I can fix upon no one to suspect.”

“There it is again!  My God! what am I to do?”—­and with these words, Duffel paced up and down in the greatest apparent distress.

“You surely can trust me with his name?” suggested Mr. Mandeville.

“True, I can trust you with anything, only that I fear your indignation will betray me.”

“Never fear; for once I will keep cool at all hazards.”

“I make one solemn condition:  you must never, under any circumstances, reveal the name of your informant to either your daughter or my enemy.”

“Why this restriction?”

“I have already explained why as far as he is concerned.”

“But Eveline?”

“Oh, I have a different reason for desiring her to be kept ignorant of my connection with her friend’s exposure,”—­and as he said this, the fellow actually blushed and seemed much embarrassed.