James Harrington turned from the balcony, and entered the open window, composed and firm, but paler than before he went out.

General Harrington looked sharply up as James came forward, but did not speak; there was a force and dignity in his aspect that filled even that worldly old man with respect, amounting almost to awe. They sat down face to face; James leaning heavily against the table, General Harrington retreating far back in his chair, to avoid the firm glance of those eyes.

"There is another way of settling this matter," he said, plunging at once into the depths of the subject. "I have wealth which you desire. To obtain it you will sell your revenge on a helpless woman whose hand you have obtained, but whose love you have never sought. Your offer is specious, but to accept it would be wickedness in me, degradation to her. I know well that she would die rather than escape your vengeance on such terms. I reject them utterly!"

"It is well," said the old man, pale and trembling in his turn, "I have at least this left;" and gathering up Mabel's book, he seemed preparing to go out.

"But," said James Harrington, still with great self-possession, "I am ready to purchase the tranquillity of your wife on other terms. Give me that book—pledge your solemn word of honor that its contents shall never be mentioned again to mortal being—leave Mabel Harrington in the entire enjoyment of her home and station, exactly as she has received them during her married life, and I will at once give you entire control of my income during your natural life, only reserving for myself enough for a bare subsistence. I will leave this house to-morrow. Henceforth, I will hold no communication with you or your family. As you said, the world is broad—any place will answer for one who has no hopes."

The old man was so taken by surprise that he could not answer, but sat searching the face before him with eager scrutiny.

"And you will do this?"

"I will."

"Without entering into explanation with her, or any one else?"

"Explanations are impossible. The family will understand that I am suddenly called away; after that, any prolonged absence can be accounted for. But remember, sir, this lady's tranquillity must be assured beyond a chance of revocation; on that rests the validity of any deed I shall draw. The day and hour in which her position is in the slightest degree impaired, no matter from what cause, and I return, though it were from the uttermost ends of the earth, to resume my own and protect her."

"Have no fear," answered the general, with an impatient wave of the hand. "The shelter of my roof, and the protection of my name, will ensure all; these I promise never to withdraw."

"And that book?"

"Shall be kept secret as the grave!"

"It must be burned before I leave the room!"The old man was about to hesitate, and demand the life-deed before he surrendered Mabel's journal; but there was a stern dignity in his step-son that checked the mean impulse. He knew well that no bond would be held more sacred than that man's word. James read the thought with a smile of contempt, and turned to leave the room.

"In half an hour I will return with the deed; keep the book till then!"

"No, no, it is here!" cried the General, flushing with shame.

But Harrington had gone, leaving him in a state of humiliation which no self-complacency could soften or conceal. After he had been left a little time, the old man went out upon the balcony, for a brilliant fire made the heat oppressive, cold as the day was; and there was a sensation of shame at his heart, that made his breath come heavily.

He was gone scarcely more than a minute, but that was long enough for the mulatto chambermaid to steal out from the bed-chamber, tear half a dozen pages from Mabel's journal, and creep back again, grasping the crushed paper in her hand as she glided through the door which opened behind the curtains of General Harrington's bed. The drapery was yet rustling from her sudden retreat, when the old gentleman returned to the library. He found the book as he had left it, and sat down with something of triumph but more of self-contempt, to await the return of his step-son.

Directly, James came back with the deed in his hand. The General took it, read it carefully section by section, folded it with studied deliberation; and taking up the journal, placed it in Harrington's hand with a forced smile and a scarcely perceptible bow.

As the book touched his hands, James Harrington grasped it with violence; a trembling fit seized upon him, and he shook like an aspen tree while carrying it to the fire. Opening the covers wide, he laid the fluttering pages down upon the flames, which darted through them like a nest of fiery vipers, and in an instant devoured poor Mabel Harrington's secret, over which the vellum covers writhed and curled like living things given up to torture.

Till the last fragment was consumed, James Harrington stood looking on, with the light falling upon his pale face, which revealed a depth of mournful tenderness that touched even that selfish old man with reverence. It seemed as if Mabel's heart had been given to the flames by his own hands. When all was consumed he turned away like one in a painful dream, and without speaking a word, left the room.

Two hours after, he quitted the house.