But anger and fear soon got the mastery of him, and he spurned her from
him.
'Begone!' he cried. 'Leave me! You plot, do you! You plot to get speech
with me, and let them know I am the man they say I am. A curse on you
and on your boy.'
'On him the curse has already fallen,' she replied, wringing her hands.
'Let it fall heavier. Let it fall on one and all. I hate you both. The
worst has come to me. The only comfort that I seek or I can have, will
be the knowledge that it comes to you. Now go!'
She would have urged him gently, even then, but he menaced her with his
chain.
'I say go--I say it for the last time. The gallows has me in its grasp,
and it is a black phantom that may urge me on to something more. Begone!
I curse the hour that I was born, the man I slew, and all the living
world!'
In a paroxysm of wrath, and terror, and the fear of death, he broke from
her, and rushed into the darkness of his cell, where he cast himself
jangling down upon the stone floor, and smote it with his ironed hands.
The man returned to lock the dungeon door, and having done so, carried
her away.
On that warm, balmy night in June, there were glad faces and light
hearts in all quarters of the town, and sleep, banished by the late
horrors, was doubly welcomed.
Pages:
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979