He spoke in broken and bitter words.
"And may God curse you for it! You have dared much, Lucy Munro, this
hour. You have bearded a worse fury than the tiger thirsting after
blood. What madness prompts you to this folly? You have heard me avow my
utter, uncontrollable hatred of this man--my determination, if possible,
to destroy him, and yet you interpose. You dare to save him in my
defiance. You teach him our designs, and labor to thwart them yourself.
Hear me, girl! you know me well--you know I never threaten without
execution. I can understand how it is that a spirit, feeling at this
moment as does your own, should defy death. But, bethink you--is there
nothing in your thought which is worse than death, from the terrors of
which, the pure mind, however fortified by heroic resolution, must still
shrink and tremble? Beware, then, how you chafe me. Say where the youth
has gone, and in this way retrieve, if you can, the error which taught
you to connive at his escape."
"I know not what you mean, and have no fears of anything you can do.
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