"If you must really go," said Ebba, looking up, after a long pause, "I
hope we shall see you again?" "Most assuredly," replied Auriol. "I owe your worthy father a deep debt
of gratitude--a debt which, I fear, I shall never be able to repay." "My father is more than repaid in saving your life," she replied. "I am
sure he will be sorry to learn you are going so soon." "I have been here a week," said Auriol. "If I remained longer, I might
not be able to go at all." There was another pause, during which a stout old fellow in the workshop
quitted the anvil for a moment, and, catching a glimpse of the young
couple, muttered to his helpmate--

"I say, Ned, I'm a-thinkin' our master'll soon have a son-in-law. There's pretty plain signs on it at yonder door." "So there be, John," replied Ned, peeping round. "He's a good-lookin'
young feller that. I wish ve could hear their discoorse." "No, that ain't fair," replied John, raking some small coal upon the
fire, and working away at the bellows. "I would not for the world ask a disagreeable question," said Ebba,
again raising her eyes, "but since you are about to quit us, I must
confess I should like to know something of your history." "Forgive me if I decline to comply with your desire," replied Auriol. "You would not believe me, were I to relate my history. But this I may
say, that it is stranger and wilder than any you ever heard. The
prisoner in his cell is not restrained by more terrible fetters than
those which bind me to silence." Ebba gazed at him as if she feared his reasoning were wandering. "You think me mad," said Auriol; "would I were so! But I shall never
lose the clear perception of my woes. Hear me, Ebba! Fate has brought me
into this house. I have seen you, and experienced your gentle ministry;
and it is impossible, so circumstanced, to be blind to your
attractions. I have only been too sensible to them--but I will not dwell
on that theme, nor run the risk of exciting a passion which must destroy
you. I will ask you to hate me--to regard me as a monster whom you ought
to shun rather than as a being for whom you should entertain the
slightest sympathy." "You have some motive in saying this to me," cried the terrified girl. "My motive is to warn you," said Auriol. "If you love me, you are
lost--utterly lost!" She was so startled, that she could make no reply, but burst into tears. Auriol took her hand, which she unresistingly yielded. "A terrible fatality attaches to me, in which you must have no share,"
he said, in a solemn tone. "Would you had never come to my father's house!" she exclaimed, in a
voice of anguish. "Is it, then, too late?" cried Auriol despairingly. "It is--if to love you be fatal," she rejoined. "Ha!" exclaimed Auriol, striking his forehead with his clenched hand. "Recall your words--Ebba--recall them--but no, once uttered--it is
impossible. You are bound to me for ever. I must fulfil my destiny." At this juncture a low growl broke from the dog, and, guided by the
sound, the youthful couple beheld, standing near the gate, the tall dark
man in the black cloak. A fiendish smile sat upon his countenance. "That is the man who frightened me!" cried Ebba. "It is the person I supposed!" ejaculated Auriol. "I must speak to him. Leave me, Ebba. I will join you presently." And as the girl, half sinking with apprehension, withdrew, he advanced
quickly towards the intruder. "I have sought you for some days," said the tall man, in a stern,
commanding voice. "You have not kept your appointment with me." "I could not," replied Auriol--"an accident has befallen me." "I know it," rejoined the other. "I am aware you were assailed by
ruffians in the ruined house over the way. But you are recovered now,
and can go forth. You ought to have communicated with me." "It was my intention to do so," said Auriol. "Our meeting cannot be delayed much longer," pursued the stranger. "I
will give you three more days. On the evening of the last day, at the
hour of seven, I shall look for you at the foot of the statue in Hyde
Park." "I will be there," replied Auriol. "That girl must be the next victim," said the stranger, with a grim
smile. "Peace!" thundered Auriol. "Nay, I need not remind you of the tenure by which you maintain your
power," rejoined the stranger. "But I will not trouble you further now." And, wrapping his cloak more closely round him, he disappeared. "Fate has once more involved me in its net," cried Auriol bitterly. "But
I will save Ebba, whatever it may cost me. I will see her no more." And instead of returning to the house, he hurried away in the opposite
direction of the stranger. CHAPTER V

THE MEETING NEAR THE STATUE


The evening of the third day arrived, and Auriol entered Hyde Park by
Stanhope Gate. Glancing at his watch, and finding it wanted nearly
three-quarters of an hour of the time appointed for his meeting with the
mysterious stranger, he struck across the park, in the direction of the
Serpentine River. Apparently he was now perfectly recovered, for his arm
was without the support of the sling, and he walked with great
swiftness. But his countenance was deathly pale, and his looks were so
wild and disordered, that the few persons he encountered shrank from him
aghast. A few minutes' rapid walking brought him to the eastern extremity of the
Serpentine, and advancing close to the edge of the embankment, he gazed
at the waters beneath his feet. "I would plunge into them, if I could find repose," he murmured. "But it
would avail nothing. I should only add to my sufferings. No; I must
continue to endure the weight of a life burdened by crime and remorse,
till I can find out the means of freeing myself from it. Once I dreaded
this unknown danger, but now I seek for it in vain." The current of his thoughts was here interrupted by the sudden
appearance of a dark object on the surface of the water, which he at
first took to be a huge fish, with a pair of green fins springing from
its back; but after watching it more closely for a few moments, he
became convinced that it was a human being, tricked out in some
masquerade attire, while the slight struggles which it made proved that
life was not entirely extinct. Though, the moment before, he had contemplated self-destruction, and had
only been restrained from the attempt by the certainty of failing in his
purpose, instinct prompted him to rescue the perishing creature before
him. Without hesitation, therefore, and without tarrying to divest
himself of his clothes, he dashed into the water, and striking out,
instantly reached the object of his quest, which still continued to
float, and turning it over, for the face was downwards, he perceived it
was an old man, of exceedingly small size, habited in a pantomimic garb. He also remarked that a rope was twisted round the neck of the
unfortunate being, making it evident that some violent attempt had been
made upon his life.