Well he might, for there she stood paler than marble--sterner than
fate--with no look of human feeling about her, but the gleaming light
of her terrible eyes, and the beading sweat upon her death-like brow.
For an instant the outlaw gazed on her in consternation, and then,
recovering himself he burst into a loud laugh, exclaiming: "Ha, ha, ha! Well, I suppose this is what people would call a piece of
splendid acting! Do you expect to frighten me, my dear, as you did
Craven Le Noir, with the peas!"
"Say 'Lord have mercy on my soul'--say it. Black Donald--say it. I
beseech you!" she prayed.
"Ha, ha, ha, my dear! You may say it for me! And to reward you, I will
give you, such a kiss! It will put life into those marble cheeks of
yours!" he laughed.
"I will say it for you! May the Lord pity and save Black Donald's soul,
if that be yet possible, for the Saviour's sake!" prayed Capitola, in a
broken voice, with her foot upon the concealed and fatal spring.
He laughed aloud, stretched forth his arms and rushed to clasp her.
She pressed the spring.
The drop fell with a tremendous crash!
The outlaw shot downwards--there was an instant's vision of a white and
panic-stricken face, and wild, uplifted hands as he disappeared, and
then a square, black opening, was all that remained where the terrible
intruder had sat.
No sight or sound came up from that horrible pit, to hint of the
secrets of the prison house.
One shuddering glance at the awful void and then Capitola turned and
threw herself, face downward, upon the bed, not daring to rejoice in
the safety that had been purchased by such a dreadful deed, feeling
that it was an awful, though a complete victory!