"I should like to see it; and I
think I may safely promise not to die from the effects. But
surely, madame, you deceive yourself; no face, however ugly -
even supposing you to possess such a one - could produce such
dismay as to cause death."
"You shall see."
She was looking down into the plague-pit, standing so close to
its cracking edge, that Sir Norman's blood ran cold, in the
momentary expectation to see her slip and fall headlong in. Her
voice was less fierce and less wild, but her hands were still
clasped tightly over her heart, as if to ease the unutterable
pain there. Suddenly, she looked up, and said, in an altered
tone:
"You have lost Leoline?"
"And found her again. She is in the power of one Count
L'Estrange."
"And if in his power, pray, how have you found her?"
"Because we are both to meet in her presence within this very
hour, and she is to decide between us,"
"Has Count L'Estrange promised you this?"
"He has."
"And you have no doubt what her decision will be?"
"Not the slightest."
"How came you to know she was carried off by this count?"
"He confessed it himself."
"Voluntarily?"
"No; I taxed him with it, and he owned to the deed; but he
voluntarily promised to take me to her and abide by her
decision.
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