“ ‘Not physical peril,’ I stammered, ‘but moral. She loves madly, unreasonably, and with a headlong passion that laughs at every obstacle, a man whom neither you nor heaven can look upon with aught but execration. She—’
“ ‘Mrs. Hamlin!’—How well I remember his cool, calm voice, so deliberate in his impressive moments, so deliberate now, when perhaps she was donning hat and shawl for her elopement—‘You are laboring under a great mistake. Instead of execrating Mr. Holt, I admire him most profoundly. Since the time has come for me to give up my daughter, I know of no one to whom I would rather surrender her.’
“ ‘But Mr. Holt is not the man,’ I cried, half wild in my fear and desperation. ‘Do you remember the gentleman who came with him on his last visit? He called him his brother, and he is I believe, but—’
“The way he turned his grand white forehead towards me at that, made every fibre in my being quiver. ‘Jacqueline does not love him!’ exclaimed he. How sharp his voice, how changed his eye! I shrank back, trembling as I bowed my head, thinking of the word yet to be said.
“ ‘But he won’t compare—’ he went on with a severe intonation. ‘Besides her honor is engaged. You are dealing in fancies, Mrs. Hamlin.’
“I tore out of my breast the scraps of paper which had enlightened me so horribly, and held them towards him; then bethought myself, and drew back. ‘I have proof,’ said I; ‘but first I must tell you that Jacqueline is not as good a girl as you have thought her. She is not her mother’s child in the qualities of love and honor. She is destined to bring a great woe upon your head. In her passion for this man, she has forgotten your trust in her, the incorruptibility of your name, the honor of your house. Be strong, sir, for God is about to smite you in your tenderest spot.
“Ah, with what pride he towered upon me! this white-haired, stately gentleman before whom I had hitherto held my breath in admiring awe; towered upon me though his face was ghostly pale and his hand trembled like an aspen as he held it out!
“ ‘Give me the papers you hold there,’ cried he. ‘Either you are gone mad, or else—Who wrote these lines?’ he demanded, glancing down upon the hard, firm scrawl that blackened the bits of paper I had given him.
“ ‘Mr. Roger Holt,’ I returned unhesitatingly. ‘I found those bits in Jacqueline’s stove. Her clothes have been sent away, sir,’ I continued as I saw his face grow fixed above the scraps he consulted. ‘Twilight is coming on and—Mr. Roger Holt is a married man!’
“ ‘What!’
“I never saw such a look flash from a human face as that which darted from his at that terrible moment. I thought he would have fallen, but he only dropped the papers out of his hand. ‘Heaven forgive us!’ murmured I, calmed by a sight of his misery, into some semblance of self-control, ‘but we have never understood Jacqueline. She is not to be led, sir, by principles or duty. She loves this man, and love with her is a stormy wind, capable of sweeping her into any abyss of contumely or suffering. If you would save her, kill her love; the death of her lover would only transform her into a demon.’
“He looked at me as if I had told him the world had come to an end. ‘My Jacqueline!’ he murmured in a low, incredulous voice of the tenderest yearning. ‘My Jacqueline!’
“ ‘Oh!’ I shrieked, torn by my anguish for him and the terror of her escaping while we were yet talking, ‘God knows I had rather have died than contaminate her by such words as I have uttered. She is dear to me as my soul; dearer to me than my life. I have a mother’s feeling for her, sir. If to fling myself headlong from that window, would delay her feet from going down the stairs to meet her guilty lover, I would gladly do it. It is her danger makes me speak. O sir, realize that danger and hasten before she has taken the irrevocable step.’
“He started like a man pricked by a sudden dart. ‘She is going—you believe she is going to meet him?’
“ ‘I do,’ said I.
“He gave me a terrible look and started for the door. I hurriedly picked up the scraps that had fallen to the floor, and rushed around by an inner passageway to my own little room, hiding my head and waiting as for the crash of a falling avalanche. Suddenly a cry rose in the hall.
“There are some sounds that lift you unconsciously to your feet. Dashing out of my room, I detected the face of the servant-girl whom I have before mentioned, looking out of her door some distance down the corridor. Hastening towards her, I uttered some words about her being a busybody, and thrusting her inside her room, locked the door upon her. Then I hastened with what speed I might to the front of the house, and coming out upon the grand staircase, met a sight that shook me to the very soul. You have been up the stairs; you know how they branch off to left and right from the platform near the top. The left branch led in those days to Colonel Japha’s room, the right to the apartments occupied by Jacqueline and myself. Coming upon them, then, as I did from my side of the house, I found myself in full view of the opposite approach, and there on the topmost step I beheld Colonel Japha, standing in an attitude of awful denunciation, while halfway down the staircase, I beheld the figure of Jacqueline, hindered in her gliding course towards the front door by the terrible, ‘Stop!’ whose echo had reached me in my room and caused me to rush quaking and horrified to this
