"I have found you, then, at last—and alone, Astræa!"
"Why do you follow me thus?" exclaimed Astræa, who stood motionless in the centre of
the room, making a great effort to appear bold and calm, but shuddering in every fibre beneath.
"Why do I follow you? What should I do else?"
"Live like other men. Seek occupation—any thing, rather than plunge your own life and mine into this eternal horror."
"Have I not occupation? Am I not attending you every where? Have I not enough to do in waiting upon you from place to place?"
"Abandon that fiendish mockery, and speak like a human being. What is it you want?"
The dwarf coiled himself up at this question, as if he were distilling all the venom out of his black heart into the answer.
"Revenge! It was for my revenge I hung upon your track, showed myself to you at all times and in all places, letting you know that the destroyer was at hand, so that you might go home and blast his happiness by your broken spirits and shattered nerves. I have seen it work; I see it now, in your quivering lip and emaciated hands. Where are the holiday roses now—the exulting lover—the secret blisses?"
Here, then, was poor Astræa's secret! The monster had been upon her steps wherever we went; and, as I afterward learned, used to start up suddenly before her in her solitary walks, to terrify her with threats of sleepless vengeance, knowing that her fear of consequences would prevent her from revealing to me the persecution under which she was sinking. This ghastly pursuit of us (to which we were also indebted for the scorn and obloquy we suffered) had gradually broken up Astræa's health, and made the strong mind almost weak and superstitious. But I must hasten on.