At this dreadful denunciation she shuddered to the soul, but yet she spoke: "Surely I am mistaken for some one else! Oh, how can I have offended any man to incur so cruel an outrage?" The warrior burst into a satanic laugh, and, throwing up his visor, "Behold me, Helen!" cried he, grasping her clasped hands with a horrible force, "My hour is come!" At the sight of the dreadful face of Soulis she comprehended all her danger, and with supernatural strength, wresting her hands from his hold, she burst through the bushes out of the cave. Her betrayers stood at the entrance, and catching her in their arms, brought her back to their lord. But it was an insensible form they now laid before him; overcome with horror her senses had fled. Short was this suspension from misery; water was thrown on her face, and she awoke to recollection, lying on the bosom of her enemy. Again she struggled, again her cries echoed from side to side of the cavern. "Peace!" cried the monster; "you cannot escape; you are now mine forever! Twice you refused to be my wife; you dared to despise my love and my power; now you shall feel my hatred and my revenge!" "Kill me!" cried the distracted Helen; "kill me and I will bless you!" "That would be a poor vengeance," cried he; "you must be humbled, proud minion, you must learn to fawn on me for a smile; to woo, as my slave, for one of those caresses you spurned to receive as my wife." As he spoke, he strained her to his breast, with the contending expressions of passion and revenge glaring in his eyes. Helen shrieked at the pollution of his lips; and as he more fiercely held her, her hand struck against the hilt of his dagger. In a moment she drew it, and armed with the strength of outraged innocence, unwitting whether it gave death or not, only hoping it would release her, she struck it into his side. All was the action of an instant while, as instantaneously, he caught her wrist, and exclaiming, "Damnable traitress!" dashed her from him, stunned and motionless to the ground. The weapon had not penetrated far. But the sight of his blood, drawn by the hand of a woman, incensed the raging Soulis. He called aloud on Macgregor. The two men, who yet stood without the cave, re-entered. They started when they saw a dagger in his hand, and Helen, lying apparently lifeless, with blood sprinkled on her garments. Macgregor, who had personated the Scottish knight, in a tremulous voice asked why he had killed the lady? Soulis frowned: "Here!" cried he, throwing open his vest: "this wound, that beautiful fiend you so piteously look upon, aimed at my life!" "My lord," said the other man, who had heard her shrieks, "I expected different treatment for the Earl of Mar's daughter." "Base Scot!" returned Soulis, "when you brought a woman into these wilds to me, you had no right to expect that I should use her otherwise than as I pleased, and you, as the servile minister of my pleasures."