Constantia trembled. She had never before listened to such language; and she felt there must be something appalling in the motive that could give it utterance. Although her hand rested on the massive lock of the door, she had not power to turn the handle. If looks could wither, the Master of Burrell would have shrunk before her gaze; yet he bore her indignant frown with more audacity than he could have believed he possessed. "If your communication concerns my father, speak, sir; if not,"--she paused, and he took up the sentence-- "If not, Constantia casts me off for ever! Yet," he added, in a tone of insulting pity, "I would spare your feelings, for you have been a most affectionate child." "Sir," interrupted Constance, "I hope I am too true a daughter to hear those taunts with patience: your insinuations I despise, and I _defy_ you to utter an accusation against him that could summon a tint of crimson to my cheek!" "But I could speak _that_ which would make the red cheek pale, lady--what think you of--of--of MURDER?" Constantia's eye gleamed for a moment, like a meteor, and then it became fixed and faded; her form assumed the rigidity of marble, and at each respiration her lips fell more and more apart. The villain became alarmed, and, taking her hand, would have led her to a seat; but his touch recalled her to herself: she darted from him to the centre of the room, and there, her arm extended, her fine head thrown back, every feature, as it were, bursting with indignation, she looked like a youthful priestess denouncing vengeance on a sinful world. "If I could curse," she said, "you should feel it heavily; but the evil within you will do its own work, and my soul be saved from sin. Away! away! And you thought to fright me with that horrid sound! My dear, dear father!" "I declare before Heaven," interrupted Burrell, "it is to save him I speak! The damning proofs of his guilt are within my hold. If you perform the contract, neither tortures nor death shall wring them from me; if you do not--mark me--I will be revenged!" "Silly, wicked that I was," exclaimed Constance, "not to command you before him instantly, that the desperate lie might be sent back into your throat, and choke you with its venom! Come with me to my father!--Ah, foul coward! you shrink, but you shall not escape!--To my father instantly!" Burrell would have restrained her, but it was impossible. Finding that he did not move, she was rushing past him, when he arrested her progress for an instant, saying,--