The boards flew asunder under his furious strokes, and in an inconceivably short space of time he had made an opening large enough to permit him to descend. As he was about to step upon the stairs he heard the clear voice of Myrtle. “For your life—stand back!” He looked once—and obeyed! She was standing in the little passage, holding a lighted taper in her hand. Just in front of her stood a small keg of powder with the head knocked out, and as he saw her pale, determined face by the light of the taper, he knew that she would destroy herself sooner than fall into his hands again. “Mad woman,” he screamed. “What would you do?” “You can find out readily by coming down,” was the quiet reply. “If you set your foot upon that step again it is the signal for your death.” “And yours—also!” “And mine. I think that I should be doing good service in killing you even though I lose my life.” The man hesitated and stepped back into the room with a look of absolute terror on his face. He had not lied when he said that he loved her dearly, and it was terrible to him to think that she hated him so much that she would sooner die than be his wife. He tried persuasion, but to that she would not answer, standing statue-like, holding the taper in her unshaking hand. “What good can it do you?” he said. “You must yield in time.” “If I feel that I am growing weak,” she replied, “at that moment I will fire the powder. At the least I shall go to my Maker pure, and send you to your Judge at the same moment. From this time I will not answer you a word.” She drew a block close to the side of the keg and sat down with a bundle of tapers by her side. The one she held burned low, and she lighted another and waited as calmly as before, while above her the hungry eyes of Rafe Norris looked down at the prize he could not reach. He hoped that she would sleep, but the peculiar brightness of her eyes convinced him that it was impossible. Only fatigue, hunger or thirst could overcome her, and she had sworn that when that time came she would fire the train. Twice he called to her as the hours passed on, but neither by sign, word or look did she show that she knew any thing of his presence, although her eyes never left the opening in the floor. In his madness he revolved in his mind a thousand plans to get her away from the powder if but for a moment, but it was useless; none of his plans were feasible while he could not draw from her a single look or sign of recognition. He felt that he could not bear this suspense much longer, but it must be borne. Hour after hour crept on; the tapers burned out, one by one, and as the first gray streaks of the morning light showed themselves in the east she took up the _last taper_ and calmly lighted it. “Ha! ha! ha!” he cried, exultantly; “your lights are gone. In a moment I shall have you in my power.” She spoke now for the first time since she had sealed her lips.