“Did they?” she said, with a cold sneer, “he is, too--at least as far as church and state can make him; but I am no more his wife at heart than I am Satan's. Truly of the two I should prefer the latter, for then I should be wedded to something grand--a fallen angel; as it is, I have the honor to be wife to a devil who never was an angel?” At this shocking statement Sir Norman looked helplessly round, as if for relief; and Miranda, after a moment's silence, broke into another mirthless laugh. “Of all the pictures of ugliness you ever saw or heard of, Sir Norman Kingsley, do tell me if there ever was one of them half so repulsive or disgusting as that thing?” “Really,” said Sir Norman, in a subdued tone, “he is not the most prepossessing little man in the world; but, madame, you do look and speak in a manner quite dreadful. Do let me prevail on you to calm yourself, and tell me your story, as you promised.” “Calm myself!” repeated the gentle lady, in a tone half snappish, half harsh, “do you think I am made of iron, to tell you my story and be calm? I hate him! I hate him! I would kill him if I could: and if you, Sir Norman, are half the man I take you to be, you will rid the world of the horrible monster before morning dawns!” “My dear lady, you seem to forget that the case is reversed, and that he is going to rid the world of me,” said Sir Norman, with a sigh. “No, not if you do as I tell you; and when I have told you how much cause I have to abhor him, you will agree with me that killing him will be no murder! Oh, if there is One above who rules this world, and will judge us all, why, why does He permit such monsters to live?” “Because He is more merciful than his creatures,” replied Sir Norman, with calm reverence,--“though His avenging hand is heavy on this doomed city. But, madame, time is on the wing, and the headsman will be here before your story is told.”