“Matilda,” he observed, “deep indeed must be the wrong that could prompt the heart of woman to so terrible a hatred.  When we last parted you gave me but an indistinct and general outline of the injury you had sustained.  Tell me now all—­tell me every thing,” he continued with energy, “that can infuse a portion of the hatred which fills your soul into mine, that my hand may be firmer—­ my heart more hardened to the deed.

“The story of my wrongs must be told in a few words, for I cannot bear to linger on them,” commenced the American, again turning deadly pale, while her quivering lips and trembling voice betrayed the excitement of her feelings.  The monster was the choice of my heart—­judge how much so when I tell you that, confiding in his honor, and in the assurance that our union would take place immediately, surrendered to him mine.  A constant visitor at Major Montgomerie’s, whose brother officer he was, we had ample opportunities of being together.  We were looked upon in society as affianced lovers, and in fact it was the warmest wish of Major Montgomerie that we should be united.  A day had even been fixed for the purpose, and it wanted, but eight and forty hours of the time, when an occurrence took place which blasted all prospect of our union for ever.

“I have already told you, I think,” resumed Matilda, “that this little temple had been exclusively erected for my own use.  Here however my false lover had constant ingress, and being furnished with a key, was in the habit of introducing himself at hours when, having taken leave of the family for the evening, he was supposed by Major Montgomerie and the servants to have retired to his own home.  On the occasion to which I have just alluded, I had understood from him some business, connected with our approaching marriage, would detain him in the town to an hour too advanced to admit of his paying me his usual visit.  Judge my surprise, and indeed my consternation, when at a late hour of the night I heard the lock of the door (from which I had removed my own key) turn, and my lover appear at the entrance.”

There was a short pause, and Matilda again proceeded.

“Scarcely had he shown himself when he had again vanished, closing the door with startling violence.  I sprang from the sofa and flew forth after him, but in vain.  He had already departed, and with a heart sinking under an insurmountable dread of coming evil, I once more entered the temple, and throwing myself upon the sofa, gave vent to my feelings in an agony of tears.”

“But why his departure, and whence your consternation?” asked Gerald, whose curiosity had been deeply excited.

“I was not alone,” resumed Matilda, in a deep and solemn voice.  “When he entered I was hanging on the neck of another.”

Gerald gave a half start of dismay, his arm dropped from the waist of the American, and he breathed heavily and quickly.

Matilda remarked the movement, and a sickly and half scornful smile passed over her pale features.  “Before we last parted, Gerald, I told you, not only that I was in no way connected with Major Montgomerie by blood, but that I was the child of obscure parents.”