Her theatric passionateness had passed;-- "Nothing was left of her, Now, but pure womanly." "That you can love me--me, the slave; me, the scourged; the scarred--Oh Stangrave! it is not much--not much really;--only a little mark or two...." "I will prize them," he answered, smiling through tears, "more than all your loveliness.

I will see in them God's commandment to me, written not on tables of stone, but on fair, pure, noble flesh.

My Marie! You shall have cause even to rejoice in them!" "I glory in them now; for, without them, I never should have known all your worth." The next day Stangrave, Marie, and Sabina were hurrying home to England! while Tom Thurnall was hurrying to Marseilles, to vanish Eastward Ho.
He has escaped once more: but his heart is hardened still.

What will his fall be like?
.