Still--still--the two leading thoughts would recur to her--that of Charles's treachery, and the terrible gift of curse possessed by his brother Henry; and once more her heart would sink to the uttermost depths of distress and terror.

The supernatural, however, in the course of a little time, prevailed, as it was only reasonable to suppose it would in such a temperament as hers; and as her mind proceeded to struggle with the two impressions, she felt that her dread of Woodward was gradually gaining upon and absorbing the other.

Her fear of him, consequently, was deadly; that terrible and malignant eye--notwithstanding its dark brilliancy and awful beauty, alas! too, significant of its power--was constantly before her imagination, gazing upon her with a fixed, determined, and mysterious look, accompanied by a smile of triumph, which deepened its satanity, if we may be allowed to coin a word, at every glance.

It was not mere antipathy she felt for him now, but dread and horror.

How, then, was she to act?
She had pledged herself to receive his visits upon one condition, and to permit him to continue a friendly intimacy altogether apart from love.