"Or," interrupted the American, in the same careless tone
"that he had betrayed a wife."

"Such a man--"

"Or, what is worse, infinitely worse, sought to put the
finishing stroke to his villainy, by affixing to the name
and conduct of his victim every ignominy and disgrace
which can attach to insulted humanity."

"Matilda," eagerly exclaimed the youth, advancing close
to her, and gazing into her dark eyes; "you are drawing
a picture."

"No Gerald," she replied calmly, "I am merely supposing
a case. Could you find no excuse for a man acting under
a sense of so much injury?--would you still call him an
assassin, if, with such provocation, he sought to destroy
the hated life of one who had thus injured him?"

Gerald paused, apparently bewildered.

"Tell me, dearest Gerald," and her fair and beautiful
hand caught and pressed his--"would you still bestow upon
one so injured the degrading epithet of assassin?"

"Assassin!--most undoubtedly I would. But why this
question, Matilda?"

The features of the American assumed a changed expression;