"Merciful heavens!" exclaimed Rosamond, appalled by this terrible announcement. "But if I cannot command my own convictions?" she added hastily.

"You must cherish a Christian spirit—you must be less prompt in forming opinions—less ready to arrive at those convictions which you represent to be uncontrollable," said Mr. Torrens, endeavouring to bewilder his daughter, and thereby render her spirit ductile and her mind pliant, so that he might manage both as he pleased. "So far from nourishing malignity against Mrs. Slingsby, you should seek consolation with her; for your own mother is not here to console you!"

"God be thanked that my mother is not here to witness my disgrace!" ejaculated Rosamond, clasping her hands fervently.

"For the sake of my daughters I was wrong—yes, I was wrong not to have married again," said Mr. Torrens, as if musing to himself. "I should have given a protectress to my children—a lady who would have been a second mother to them; and then all this would not have occurred! But it is not yet too late to ensure your future welfare, Rosamond, by those means," he added, turning towards his daughter, who had listened with surprise to her father's previous observations; "and in accomplishing that aim, I may at the same time afford a convincing proof to a deserving, wrongly-suspected, and misjudged woman of my own esteem, and inferentially of your regret at the calumniatory sentiments you have cherished concerning her."

"My dear father—I do not understand you!" cried Rosamond, a dreadful suspicion weighing on her mind; and which, nevertheless, seemed so wild and ridiculous—so utterly impossible to be well-founded, that she fancied she had not rightly comprehended the sentiments of her parent.

"I am thinking how I can best ensure your welfare and happiness, Rosamond," he said, "by giving you a substitute for that maternal protectress whom you have lost—one who will be a companion and a friend to you——"

"Father!" exclaimed Rosamond, horrified at the idea of having a step-mother, and trembling with indescribable alarms lest she had indeed too well read her sire's intentions respecting the one whom he proposed to invest with that authority.

"Will you hear me with calmness?—will you subdue this excitement, which amounts to an undutiful aversion to all I am projecting for your sake?" demanded Mr. Torrens, again assuming a severe tone: then, perceiving that his daughter was dismayed by his manner, he hastily added, as if determined at once to put an end to a painful scene, "If I have consulted you, Rosamond, on the step that I propose to take, it was because I deemed you sensible and reasonable enough to merit that proof of confidence on my part, and obedient enough to submit becomingly to the dictates of my superior wisdom and experience. Know, then, that it is my intention to marry again—for your sake—and that my inclinations, as well as my interests, induce me to fix my choice upon Mrs. Slingsby."

Rosamond uttered not a word, but fell back senseless in her chair.

"Obstinate fool!" muttered Torrens between his teeth, as he hastened forward to save her from slipping off on the fender. "But I will neither argue nor consult any more—I will command, where I wish to be obeyed."

He applied a scent-bottle to her nostrils; and she soon gave signs of returning animation. Opening her eyes, she glanced wildly at her father, as if to interrogate him whether that were really true which appeared to have been haunting her like a horrid dream.

"Father—father," she murmured, grasping his hands; "you will not—no, you will not do what you have said! Oh! I implore you—I conjure—sacrifice not your own happiness and mine at the same instant! I was not mistaken in one syllable that I overheard between that woman and that man—and their discourse filled me with horror. She is his paramour, father—she is in a way to become a mother——"

"Silence, daughter!" cried Mr. Torrens, sternly. "And now listen to me, while I make you acquainted with my commands! Not only is it my intention to marry Mrs. Slingsby, but I desire that you will treat her with respect—if not with affection. And as you value my love and the continuance of my kindness, you will observe these instructions. If any thing more be wanting to induce you to comply with my desire, that additional argument will, perhaps, be found in the fact that if I do not marry Mrs. Slingsby, I shall be ruined—utterly undone—my property wrested from me—my person conveyed to a prison—and you thrust out, houseless and penniless, into the wide world, without a soul to protect or befriend you. Now I have told you all—and it is for you to decide whether your prejudices shall prevail against my most substantial interests."

Rosamond was astounded at the words which met her ears; and she knew not how to reply.

For a few moments she stood gazing vacantly upon her father's countenance, as if to read thereon a confirmation of words, the import of which seemed too terrible to be true: then, probably experiencing the necessity of seeking the solitude of her own chamber for the purpose of giving vent to the overflowing fulness of her heart's emotions, she hurried from the room.

Poor friendless girl! dreadful was the position in which she found herself placed! Oh! why were not Clarence and Adelais near to console her—to receive her beneath their protecting influence? Alas! she would not have dared to face them, even were they in the metropolis at the time; for she could not have revealed to them her dishonour—Oh! no, she would sooner have died!

Throwing herself on a seat in the privacy of her bed-chamber, she burst into tears, and gave vent to her anguish in heart-rending sobs.

An hour passed—and still she thought not of retiring to rest;—she was in a state of utter despair!

She heard her father ascend to his chamber: but this circumstance reminded her not that the usual hour when she herself sought her couch had gone by.

Suddenly she was aroused from the deep reverie of woe that had succeeded the violent outburst of her anguish, by the movement of the handle of the door, as if some one were about to enter her room.

She started and listened, the bed being between the place where she was and the door, so that she could not see the latter.

Yes—some one was indeed entering the chamber.

With a faint scream she darted forward, and beheld a man in the act of closing the door behind him.

The intruder was Jeffreys, the recently-hired servant.

"What has brought you hither, John?" enquired Rosamond, in hasty and anxious tone—for she feared lest something had happened to her father.

"Nothink but your own beautiful self, Miss," answered the ruffian, advancing towards her as well as he was able—for he was much intoxicated.

"Begone!" cried Rosamond, her whole countenance becoming suddenly crimson with indignation. "Begone, I say—and to-morrow my father will know how to punish this insolence."

"Your father, Miss, won't do no such a thing," returned Jeffreys; "and it'll be all the worse for you if you holler. I know a many things that wouldn't render it safe for master to quarrel with me. So give me a kiss——"

"Villain!" exclaimed Rosamond, bursting into tears: "how dare you thus insult me? Leave the room—or I alarm the house at any risk!"—and she rushed towards the bell-pull.

"None of that nonsense, Miss—or I'll hang your father, as sure as you're alive!" said Jeffreys, placing his back to the door, folding his arms, and surveying Rosamond with the insolence of a licentious, drunken bully.

"Hang my father!" repeated the unhappy girl, staggering back and sinking into a chair—for so many dreadful things had recently occurred, that her mind was more attuned to give immediate credence to evil than to receive good tidings.

"Yes, by jingo!" said Jeffreys: "I can hang him any day I like. But what's more, I know pretty well all that's happened to you. I didn't listen for nothink at the parlour door this morning when that Mrs. Bingsby or Stingsby, or whatever her name is, was here."

"My God! my God!" murmured Rosamond, pressing her hands to her brow with all her might—for she felt as if she were going mad.

"Now don't take on so, Miss," said Jeffreys: "I'm sure I didn't mean to vex you like that. But the fact is I've took a great fancy to you: and if so be I let out that your father did draw a knife across the throat of that baronet which come here last night, and which I s'pose was the same you spoke of this morning to Mrs. Bingsby——"

"Monster!" shrieked Rosamond, in a shrill, penetrating tone—for she was unable any longer to subdue the horrible emotions which racked and tortured her, goading her almost to madness.

In another instant Mr. Torrens was heard to rush from his chamber—a moment more, and he forced his way into his daughter's room, hurling the villain Jeffreys forward with the violence exerted in dashing open the door.

"Father—dear father!" exclaimed Rosamond, springing into his arms; "save me—save me from that monster, who has told me such dreadful—dreadful things!"

"Be calm, Rosamond," said Mr. Torrens in a low and hoarse tone; "or you will alarm the other servant. Jeffreys," he added, turning towards the fellow who was swaying himself backwards and forwards, in the middle of the room, in that vain attempt to appear sober so often made by drunken men, "how dare you to intrude here? But follow me—I must speak to you alone."

"Father—one word," said Rosamond, in a voice indicative of deep feeling. "This man uttered a frightful accusation against you—Oh! an accusation so terrible that my blood curdles——"

"Nonsense, Rosamond!" interrupted Mr. Torrens, cruelly agitated: "you see that he has taken a drop too much—he is a good well meaning fellow—and will be very sorry in the morning——"

"Sorry! why the devil should I be sorry?" cried Jeffreys, with the dogged insolence of inebriation. "I don't know what I've got to be sorry for——"

"Come, come," said Mr. Torrens, gently pushing his daughter aside, and approaching the man-servant in a coaxing, conciliatory way; "this is carrying the thing too far, John——"

"Well—well, we can talk it over in the morning, Miss—and I dare say we shall make matters right enough together," stammered the drunken hind, as he allowed himself to be led away from the chamber by Mr. Torrens. "You're a pretty gal—and if I said anythink amiss——"

The almost maddened father hurried him over the threshold, and Rosamond hastened to secure the door behind them both.

Then flinging herself into a chair, she exclaimed, "My God! what horrors have met my ears this night! Misfortunes—crimes—woes—fears—outrages have entered the house, like an army carrying desolation along with it! But my father—a murderer—Oh! heavens—no—no—it cannot be! And yet that dread accusation—so cool—so systematic——my God! my God!"

And she wept as if her heart would break.

From this painful—or rather most agonising condition of mind, she was aroused by a low knock at her door; and, in answer to her question who was there, the voice of her father replied.

She hastened to admit him;—but, as he entered, she started back, appalled by the ghastliness of his countenance, every lineament of which denoted horror and fearful emotions.

"Father, tell me all—keep me not in suspense—let me know the worst!" exclaimed Rosamond, clasping her hands in an imploring manner. "Dreadful things have happened, I am sure—and my brain is reeling, maddening!"

"Daughter," said Mr. Torrens, taking her hand, "you must and you shall know the worst now—for I find that the miscreant Jeffreys has indeed told you too much for me to attempt to conceal the truth——"

"Just heavens! my father—stained with blood—the blood of vengeance on account of his dishonoured daughter;" said Rosamond, speaking in broken sentences and with hysterical excitement, while her eyes were fixed intently and with a fearfully wild expression upon the haggard countenance of her sire.

"No—not so, Rosamond," answered Mr. Torrens emphatically. "Sit down—there—and try and compose yourself for a few moments, while I give you an explanation which circumstances have rendered imperative."

The wretched girl suffered herself to be placed on a seat: her father then drew another chair close to the one which she occupied—and, leaning with folded arms over the back of it, he continued in these terms:——

"Last night—after you had retired to your room—Sir Henry Courtenay called. Yes—he dared to visit the house into which such dishonour and so much misery had been brought by his means. But he came to offer every possible atonement which it was in his power to make; and then I ascended to your room—here—to make you aware of his presence in the parlour below and of the proposals which I had received. But I found you in a state of mind too profoundly excited to bear the announcement—I remained with you to console and tranquillise you—and, when I saw that you were growing more calm, I retraced my way down stairs. Merciful heavens! what a spectacle then met my eyes!"

And Mr. Torrens, having introduced his fearful history by this deceptive and well coloured preface, proceeded to narrate the facts of the murder precisely as they had really occurred,—not forgetting to mention the robbery of a sum of money which he had left on the table. He then explained the part which John Jeffreys had subsequently performed in the occurrences of the preceding night; and he wound up in the following manner:——

"Thus you perceive, dear Rosamond, how a fearful combination of circumstances would fix dark and dreadful suspicions on me, were this tragedy to be brought to light. And now, too, you can understand how that miscreant Jeffreys dared to presume upon his knowledge of the shocking event—how, believing me to be completely in his power, he fancied that I dared not defend my own daughter from his licentious ruffianism. And, more than all this, Rosamond—Mrs. Slingsby holds me also beneath the rod of terrorism! For she knew that the baronet came hither last night—she knew also that he did not return—and I was compelled to reveal to her the whole truth, even as circumstances have now forced me to reveal it to you. And this is the secret of my intended marriage with her—a marriage that will take place to-morrow, and into which she has coerced me! Thus, Rosamond, if you ever loved and if you still love your unhappy father—pity him, pity him—but do not reproach him—nor aggravate his grief and his mental anguish by thought or deed on your part!"

So ingeniously had Mr. Torrens blended truth and fiction in his narrative, to work upon the feelings of his daughter,—so artfully had he combined and explained the various incidents in order to represent himself as the victim of cruel circumstances—that the generous-minded Rosamond felt the deepest commiseration and sympathy on behalf of her father rapidly taking possession of her soul.

"My dearest parent," she said, "I crave your pardon—I implore your forgiveness, for having wronged you by the most unjust—the most horrible suspicions! But the conduct of that man Jeffreys—his awful accusation—the reluctance you appeared to exhibit in dealing summarily with him, when you entered the room the first time this night,—all these things operated powerfully upon my mind, which has been attenuated by so many dreadful shocks within the last ten or twelve days! Alas! what sorrows have overtaken us—what perils environ us! Let us fly from this neighbourhood, dear father—let us leave England——"

"It is impossible, Rosamond!" interrupted Mr. Torrens hastily. "I had myself thought of that means of ensuring personal safety: but I abandoned the idea almost as soon as formed—for it was better to stay here, surrounded by danger, yet having bread to eat, than seek a foreign clime to starve!"

"We can work, dear father—we can toil for our livelihood! But, no—never should you be reduced to such a painful necessity, so long as your daughter has health and strength to labour for our mutual support!" exclaimed the excellent-hearted girl. "Oh! let us fly—let us quit this country—let us repair to France! I have some few accomplishments—drawing—music—a knowledge of all the branches of needlework; and it will be hard indeed if I cannot earn enough to procure us bread."

"No—no, Rosamond—it cannot be!" said Mr. Torrens, tears now trickling down his cheeks—for the better he became acquainted with the admirable traits of his daughter's character—traits which adversity, misfortune, and danger now developed—the more bitterly did his heart smite him for the awful treachery he had perpetrated with regard to her.

"And wherefore is it impossible?" she asked. "Consider, my dear father, by what circumstances you are now surrounded. On one side is Jeffreys whom you dare not offend—whom you cannot discharge—and from whose ruffianism your daughter is not safe. On the other side, is this marriage with Mrs. Slingsby—a marriage which I now perceive to be forced upon you—a marriage that will bring into this house a person whom neither of us can ever love or respect!"

"Enough! enough! Rosamond," exclaimed Mr. Torrens: "all these sad things—these dangers and these sacrifices—have become interwoven with the destiny which it is mine to fulfil; and I must pursue my painful course—follow on my sad career, in the best manner that I may. I cannot risk starvation in a foreign land—I could not support an existence maintained by the toils of my daughter. Besides, I am confident of being able to realise a fortune by my speculations in this neighbourhood. Here, then, must I remain. And now, Rosamond, it remains for you to decide whether you will receive the mother-in-law whom imperious circumstances force upon you—or whether you will abandon your father!"

"Never, never will I leave you!" cried the affectionate girl, throwing her arms around her parent's neck, and embracing him tenderly.

The interview—the painful interview between the father and his child then terminated. The former retired to his own apartment, a prey to feelings of the most harrowing nature; and the latter sought her couch, to which slumber was brought through sheer exhaustion.

But the horrors of the early portion of the night were perpetuated in her dreams!