“You can ask no question that it will not give me pleasure to answer.”

“But this, I fear, will give you pain,” said he.

“Pain, you have taught me, is often a salutary discipline.”

“True, and may it be so in the present instance.  It is not unknown to me that Mr. Lyon once held a place in your regard—­I will go farther, and say in your affections.”

Fanny started, and moved a step from him; but he continued—­

“The question I wish to ask is, does there yet remain in your heart a single point that gives back a reflection of his image?  In plainer words, is he any thing to you?”

“No, nothing!” was the emphatic, almost indignant, answer.

“It is said,” resumed Mr. Willet, “that you once loved him.”

“He came to me,” replied Fanny, “a young, artless, trusting girl, as an angel of light.  Nay, I was only a child, whose ears were unused to warmer words than fell from the loving lips of parents.  Suddenly, he opened before me a world of enchantment.  My whole being was on fire with a delicious passion.  I believed him true and good, and loved him, because, in my eyes, he was the embodiment of all human perfections.  But time proved that I had only loved an enchanting ideal, and my heart rejected him with intense loathing.”

“Enough,” said Willet; “I feel that it must be so.”

The two remained silent for the space of nearly a minute; Mr. Willet then resumed—­

“Forgive me if my question has seemed indelicate, and be assured that I asked it from no idle curiosity.  Let me go a little farther; and, my dear young lady, retain your calmness of spirit.  Look into your heart, but keep every pulsation under control.  Since our first meeting, I have felt a deep interest in you.  What you have suffered has pained me seriously; but the pain has given way to pleasure, for out of the fire you have come up pure and strong, Fanny!  I have but one word more—­there is a sacred place in my heart, and your image has long been the inhabitant.  Here is my hand—­will you lay your own within it, that I may grasp it as mine for life?”

Willet extended his hand as he spoke.  There was only a moment’s hesitation on the part of Fanny, who stood with her head bent so far down that the expression of her face could not be seen.  Raising her eyes in which joy shone through blinding tears, she extended her hand, which was seized, grasped tightly for an instant, and then covered with kisses.

CHAPTER XLIII.

NO sooner was Lyon completely in the power of the men he had wronged to an extent that left no room for mercy, than he made offers of compromise.  A public trial involved not only public disgrace, but he had too good reasons to fear conviction and penal retribution.  This was the greatest evil he had to dread, and so he made up his mind to part with at least a portion of his ill-gotten gains.  Interview