CHAPTER XIV.
"As when a lion in his den,
Hath heard the hunters' cries,
And rushes forth to meet his foes,
So did the Douglas rise--"
_Percy_.
Alice Dunscombe did not find the second of the prisoners buried, like
Griffith, in sleep, but he was seated on one of the old chairs that were
in the apartment, with his back to the door, and apparently looking
through the small window, on the dark and dreary scenery over which the
tempest was yet sweeping in its fury. Her approach was unheeded, until
the light from her lamp glared across his eyes, when he started from his
musing posture, and advanced to meet her. He was the first to speak.
"I expected this visit," he said, "when I found that you recognized my
voice; and I felt a deep assurance in my breast, that Alice Dunscombe
would never betray me."
His listener, though expecting this confirmation of her conjectures, was
unable to make an immediate reply, but she sank into the seat he had
abandoned, and waited a few moments, as if to recover her powers.
"It was, then, no mysterious warning! no airy voice that mocked my ear;
but a dread reality!" she at length said. "Why have you thus braved the
indignation of the laws of your country? On what errand of fell mischief
has your ruthless temper again urged you to embark?"
"This is strong and cruel language, coming from you to me, Alice
Dunscombe," returned the stranger, with cool asperity, "and the time has
been when I should have been greeted, after a shorter absence, with
milder terms.
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