his perverted heart was capable. She had made him the weak instrument of her arts; and knowing him too well, to place herself in his power, she had detained him near her, by all the varying stratagems of which she was mistress.—He now knelt before her, and, reading in her fierce countenance her dreadful wishes, "I will revenge thee," he said, "yes it shall be done!" "Blood—blood is the price!" said Lady Margaret. "Seal the compact thus:—be mine but for one hour:—let me fancy myself blest—and: . . . ." "My son must be Duke of Altamonte," returned Lady Margaret, deeply agitated.—"He shall."—"Swear it, my loveliest, my youngest friend!"—"By the living God of Heaven, I swear it."—"Ah! but your courage will fail at the moment: your heart, intrepid as I think it, will shudder, and misgive you.—Say where, and how, it can be done with safety." "Leave that to me: keep your own counsel: I will do the rest." He spoke, and left her.
