“And you accept?” he cried joyfully, as he bent nearer to her. “You will say--yes?” “No, no,” she exclaimed hastily, as she shrunk back; “I cannot--I cannot--accept.” “You--cannot--accept!” he cried blankly. “And--why?” She remained silent. “Why?” he repeated. Still there was no answer. “You are not pledged to another?” “Surely that is something you should not ask.” “But I do ask it,” he cried vehemently, springing to his feet, his face pale with anger. “Do you think I am blind--that I cannot surmise! You have been bewitched by that traitor whose crimes I have laid bare before you. In spite of his misdeeds and his shame, you still cling to a mad infatuation, a wild hope, instead of accepting an honorable union. It is the perversity which has marked and marred so many of your sex through the ages. But I am not a man to be thus flaunted and put aside. This silly infatuation, this foolish love of yours can never be realized, for it is given to one who is dead!” “Dead!” repeated Dorothy, turning pale to the lips. “What do you mean?” “Ah! I’ll tell you!” said Lord Ashley, beside himself with anger. “This man deserved death, but the Government, on the score of policy, was opposed to the notoriety arising from his public trial and execution. It was accordingly decided that he should be afforded opportunities of escape and that he should either be allowed to gain his freedom and hide his perfidy and shame in some obscure corner of the world, or else that the death he so well merited should be dealt out to him while effecting this escape--in other words, a private execution of justice in place of a public one. This question was referred to certain officers of the Government, who in turn left the whole question to me. In the goodness of my heart, I wavered and delayed my decision until the last moment, making the execution dependent upon a certain signal to be given by me. At this very moment the man is escaping. His life depends upon the signal which I shall give.” “But this is murder!” cried Dorothy desperately, springing to her feet. “It is a judicial execution,” said Lord Ashley sternly, “and one that would be approved by every army officer and every loyalist in the country were the facts known.” “I will shout this infamy broadcast,” cried Dorothy, wild-eyed and gasping. “Bah!” exclaimed Lord Ashley with sarcasm, “your utterances will be known merely as the wild ravings of an infatuated woman! What will they weigh against official declarations and the military reports as to the escape and what followed? Such utterances will simply bring notoriety and discredit upon you.” “Have you no mercy?”