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"And take Adèle with you, sir," I interrupted; "she will be a companion for you."

"What do you mean, Jane? I told you I would send Adèle to school; and what do I want with a child for a companion, and not my own child,-a French dancer's bastard? Why do you importune me about her! I say, why do you assign Adèle to me for a companion?"

"You spoke of a retirement, sir; and retirement and solitude are dull: too dull for you."

"Solitude! solitude!" he reiterated with irritation. "I see I must come to an explanation. I don't know what sphynx-like expression is forming in your countenance. You are to share my solitude. Do you understand?"

I shook my head: it required a degree of courage, excited as he was becoming, even to risk that mute sign of dissent.

He had been walking fast about the room, and he stopped, as if suddenly rooted to one spot.

He looked at me long and hard: I turned my eyes from him, fixed them on the fire, and tried to assume and maintain a quiet, collected aspect.

"Now for the hitch in Jane's character," he said at last, speaking more calmly than from his look I had expected him to speak.

"The reel of silk has run smoothly enough so far; but I always knew there would come a knot and a puzzle: here it is.

Now for vexation, and exasperation, and endless trouble! By God! I long to exert a fraction of Samson's strength, and break the entanglement like tow!"

He recommenced his walk, but soon again stopped, and this time just before me.

"Jane! will you hear reason?" (he stooped and approached his lips to my ear); "because, if you won't, I'll try violence." His voice was hoarse; his look that of a man who is just about to burst an insufferable bond and plunge headlong into wild license.

I saw that in another moment, and with one impetus of frenzy more, I should be able to do nothing with him.

The present-the passing second of time-was all I had in which to control and restrain him-a movement of repulsion, flight, fear would have sealed my doom,-and his.

But I was not afraid: not in the least.

I felt an inward power; a sense of influence, which supported me.

The crisis was perilous; but not without its charm: such as the Indian, perhaps, feels when he slips over the rapid in his canoe.

I took hold of his clenched hand, loosened the contorted fingers, and said to him, soothingly-

"Sit down; I'll talk to you as long as you like, and hear all you have to say, whether reasonable or unreasonable."

He sat down: but he did not get leave to speak directly.

I had been struggling with tears for some time: I had taken great pains to repress them, because I knew he would not like to see me weep.

Now, however, I considered it well to let them flow as freely and as long as they liked.

If the flood annoyed him, so much the better.

So I gave way and cried heartily.

Soon I heard him earnestly entreating me to be composed. I said I could not while he was in such a passion.

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