It was a very extraordinary thing for Mr. Mandeville to express his thoughts aloud, but he did so on this occasion, and Duffel heard his comments on the letters, and his execration of the writer, as also his reflections upon his daughter's conduct; then there was a crumpling sound like that of paper, as though the sheets were crushed in the hand of the reader. All this was music to the crime-stained soul of the guilty listener, who exulted in the success of his scheme, and felt additional a.s.surance of ultimately triumphing in all his undertakings. But when the spirit-bowed father, in his hopeless agony, called down the curse upon the head of the author of the wrong, and appealed to Heaven for vengeance, the villain cowered as if truly smitten with a bolt; and the bare thought that the fate prayed for _might_ be his, sent a cold chill to his heart and forced out great drops of perspiration on his brow. He trembled in every limb, like one in an ague fit, and it was some seconds before he could regain command of his faculties. At last he felt something like himself again, and not wishing to hear anything more of the same kind, he knocked at the door, and the next minute stood face to face with Mr. Mandeville.

Black as his corrupt heart had become, he could not look unmoved upon that countenance, and behold the ravages made in a short hour by the pains of soul _he_ had inflicted.

"Are you sick, Mr. Mandeville?" was his first inquiry.

"No, sir; but worse, much worse than sick."

"Indeed! How is that?"

"Eveline is gone!"

"Gone?"

"Yes, gone forever!"

"What!" and the miscreant evinced the utmost surprise and astonishment.

"You do not mean to say she is dead?"

"No, no! Would to G.o.d she was! I would a thousand times rather have followed her to the grave! But read, read, and know for yourself what has happened." Saying which, he placed the letters in the hypocrite's hands, and then, while he was reading them, buried his face in his own hands, and sat in mute but agonized grief.

Duffel read the letters with secret delight, repeating to himself at every particular place where it suited him best, "Glorious!" and at the close of all, "I must reward Bill for this. He's a perfect gem of a devil for such work."

But to Mandeville, in well-feigned amazement, he exclaimed:

"Charles Hadley!"

"Yes," said the afflicted parent, lifting his bowed head, "of all the world, _him_! a criminal and vagabond, who had fled from justice to hide himself from the face of man! Oh, my G.o.d! to think that she would forsake home, friends, a good name, and trample upon a parent's love for such a villain!"

"Perhaps it is not yet too late to save her?" suggested Duffel.

"How? what?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the other, catching at the words as a drowning man would at a straw.

"I say it may be possible that the marriage-rites have not yet been performed. This may be written for a blind to prevent pursuit."

"No, no; I cannot doubt its truth, and would not have a hope raised in my heart to be crushed out again by despair. Beside, whither should I go in pursuit of them?"

"I see you are in hopeless despondency, but I do not feel like giving over without a struggle--I have too much to lose in Eveline. Shall I try to rescue her?"

"Oh! yes, if you wish to do so."

"And if, by any means, I can circ.u.mvent this Hadley, and prevent their union, I have your consent to make her my wife?"

"Certainly."

"And will you interpose parental authority in my behalf?"

"Yes, after this I will."

"I have still one request more to make, and that is, that you will permit me to act in my own way, and according to my own judgment in this matter."

"Do so; I have no advice to give."

"Very well; I am to understand, then, that if by _any means_ I can rescue Eveline from Hadley, she is to be my wife?"

"Yes."

"Then I will try. I will follow them to the end of the world if need be.

Perhaps you may hear from me soon, perhaps not for a month. Good-by."

In a few moments he was galloping away at full speed, as if to impress his recent host with the idea that he was in great haste to be after the fugitives.

Mr. Mandeville had been too deeply absorbed with his own feelings to pay very strict attention to what Duffel was saying; but the words _by any means_ now rose vividly up in his mind, and like a flash came the thought--

"He may intend to _murder_ Hadley!"

Starting to his feet, he hastened out for an explanation; but Duffel was already gone, and turning back, he entered his dwelling with the expression in his thoughts--

"Let him die: it matters not!"

Ah, had he known the true state of the case, and the devilish import of those words in the mind of the abominable wretch who had uttered them, how suddenly would he have aroused himself to action. But now he cared not.

"If," thought he, "Eveline is so ungrateful, if she thinks so little of a father's love, let her go! Why need I seek to force her to stay with me when she prefers the society of another? Oh, if I had not loved her so tenderly, I could endure this trial better. But why mourn and lament? No, rather let me forget her, as she has forsaken me."

But he could not forget her with all his resolving, and we will leave him with his sorrow.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE INTERVIEW.

Faithful to his wicked intentions, Duffel presented himself before Eveline on the day succeeding the one in which she was placed in confinement at the cave, and having no choice in the matter, she was obliged to become a partic.i.p.ator in the conversation he was pleased to introduce and force upon her. She was seated on an elegant sofa--for the apartment was luxuriously furnished--when he entered; and with all the a.s.surance of an accepted friend, he walked up and took a seat by her side. She was reading at the time, and when he entered she barely raised her eyes from the pages of the book, as if to a.s.sure herself who it was that intruded, and then, without further notice or any sign of recognition, continued to peruse the work in hand. This unexcited, cool and self-possessed conduct was not what the villain seemed to expect or desire; he hoped to find a suppliant in tears, instead of a calm and apparently unconcerned woman; he was prepared for such a subject, but for the one before him he was not, and he was at a loss how to proceed; indeed, just at that moment he was the most uneasy of the two. But he must do something, and so opened the interview on this wise:

"You seem to be deeply absorbed in the contents of that book, Miss Mandeville, and I am pleased to see you so well entertained in this rather solitary abode."

As this remark did not positively require a reply, Eveline continued to read without opening her mouth; Duffel bit his lip in vexation, but after a pause of some duration continued:

"I am very sorry to interrupt you when so agreeably employed, but necessity often compels us to do things abhorrent to our feelings; and as I have some important communications to make, which it is best for you to know immediately, I must beg to be permitted to disturb you for a few minutes.

Perhaps it will be some compensation for the brief interruption to give you the latest intelligence from your father and former home."

At these words Eveline for the first time raised her eyes to the face of the villain, as if to ascertain the expression of his countenance, and learn whether he was in a serious or mocking humor. He went on:

"I had the pleasure of a long interview with Mr. Mandeville last evening.

He was in much distress at your absence, and thought you were very undutiful to leave him in his old age without even a parting word."

At this unfeeling recital, Eveline cast upon the heartless wretch a look of indignation, and her dark eyes fairly shot fire; he quailed under the scathing rebuke of those orbs, as he had often done before, but was chagrined that he had been unable to draw a single word from her lips, and mentally resolving to bring her to the speaking point, he proceeded:

"But sorry and indignant as he was at _your_ conduct, he was far more deeply exasperated at Hadley."