"Ellen," replied the wretched man, in a hollow tone, "I am sold to the Evil One; all that is good is departed from me; all that is evil lives and dwells in me. But why do I delay? You must, you _shall_ be my wife! refuse me no longer; I have sworn it; you are my prisoner; appeal not to my mercy,--it is gone! Appeal not to my honour,--I have none! I have no pity. I glory in my shame. I will force you to be my wife; there is a priest below, he will join our hands; refuse me no more! I am settled, fixed, steeled for the worst." "A mock priest, like your officers! Oh! degraded, wretched young man, if nothing holy, nothing divine moves you, see if earthly threats will avail. I tell you, L'Estrange, you stand on a mine,--you totter on a volcano; it will burst, and hurl your soul and body to the hell to which you have sold yourself! You do not dare touch me; you dread the Earl's power too much. You speak proudly,--you are not able to perform!" "Am I not? You are alone; you are far from all, save those who are darker than _me_, and more wicked. I will have the ceremony read, and then you are mine! Nothing can sever us. Ha!--how like you that?" "Listen, unhappy young man,--you are not able to perform your threats. Wedded to me you shall never be while I live! I have in my hand the means of my own death,--see this dagger! Before your defiling touch can reach me, it shall be sheathed in my heart; you will see Ellen Ravensworth has the power and has the determination to end this scene, though her death only does so! And yet it is hard to die with friends so near; but if death only places a gulf between us, I can die, and at least die preserving my lord's honour! But dread him; from my early tomb, dread his vengeance! I may die, depending on God's mercy; but woe to thee!--death first, and after death eternity. Punishment may flag here,--it will not there." "Ellen, let me undeceive you; you think that the Earl strives to rescue you,--it is not so! Your own mind might have told you that. The Earl has been told you are fled with me; he believes it, and, deeming you unworthy of his love, he has disowned you,--he ceases to care for you!" "Oh! it is impossible! Lost, wretched as you are, you could not,--you could not have told him so." "I said not that I did; but know it is nevertheless true. Think you he would have left you so long unrescued had it not been so? Be wise,--accept this hand, and I will live to make you happy." "God be merciful to me, when all forsake me!" said Ellen, in a voice that went to L'Estrange's heart. "Come, Ellen, do not be obstinate; be my wife; say one word to tell me so." "Never! You may torture me,--I am in your power,--you may kill me: nothing will make me give but one answer,--'No!'" "Then your blood be on your own head." L'Estrange advanced as though to seize her; but at the same moment she drew forth the blade, and placing its point on her breast, said--