"Never touch a rattlesnake at all, friend, it is a desperate business, I assure you; they are beautiful reptiles, but rather dangerous to play with. Oh, I am glad that your fingers relax, it would have been unpleasant to shoot a fellow creature here in the dark, and with a gentle lady close by."
"Would it?" muttered Jacob, between his teeth.
The answer was a light laugh, that sounded strangely in that silent dwelling.
"Your hand once more, friend; after all, this darkness makes me quite dependent on your guidance," said the voice again.
There was a fierce struggle in Jacob's bosom; but at last his hand was stretched forth and clasped with the soft, white fingers, whose bare touch filled his soul with loathing.
"This way—I will lead you safely!"
"Why, how you tremble, friend—not with fear, I hope."
"No, with hate!" were the words that sprang to the honest lips of Jacob Strong; but he conquered the impulse to utter them, and only answered—"I'm not afraid!"
"Faith, but it requires courage to grope one's way through all this darkness—every step puts our necks in danger."
Jacob made no observation; he had reached the lower hall, and moved rapidly across the tessellated floor toward the front entrance. The moment they gained the open air, Jacob wrenched his hand from the other's grasp, and hurrying down the steps, opened the carriage door. The rain prevented any further questioning on the part of Leicester, and he took his seat in silence.