It was his work! not hers! His, whose whole life seemed to be given over to murder, to rebellion and to secret plottings, and who had tried to throw dust in her eyes and to cajole her into becoming a traitor too to all that she held dear.
It was his work, and the terrible reprisals which the Duke of Alva's retributive justice would mete out to this rebellious city lay at the door of those who had conspired against the State, and not at hers who had only been an humble tool in Almighty hands.
But in spite of her inner conviction that she had done right, in spite of her father's praise and approval which he had lavished on her all the way from Dendermonde to Ghent, she could not rid herself of a terrible sense of utter desolation and utter misery, and of a feeling of pity for all these poor people which caused her unendurable--almost physically unendurable--agony.
When anon the Lieutenant-Governor dismissed the burghers and after a few words with her father and señor del Rio left the council chamber, Lenora had a feeling as if the ground was opening before her, as if an awful chasm yawned at her feet into which she must inevitably fall if she dared look into it. And yet she looked and looked, as if fascinated by the hideousness of what she saw--pictures of cruelty and of evil far more horrible than any which had ever been limned of hell. And in the overwhelming horror which faced her now, she felt herself screaming aloud, with appealing defiance: "It is his work! not mine! Let the blood of his kinsfolk fall upon him--not me!" ere she tottered and fell back.
When full consciousness returned to her, her father was by her side. He looked pale and sullen and instinctively she drew away from him, whereat he smiled, showing his large teeth which looked like the fangs of a wolf.
"I ought never to have allowed you to come here, Lenora," he said roughly. "As His Highness said, it was not at all fit for women's ears."
"His Highness," she retorted coldly, "also said that to be here was my right ... your triumph to-day being all due to me."
"Well!" he added lightly, "'tis you wanted to come, remember."
"Yes," she said, "I wanted to come."
"I would have sent you to Brussels with Inez and a good escort. It is not too late. You can still go. Ghent will not be a fitting place for women during the next few days," he added, whilst a glow of evil satisfaction suddenly lit up his sallow face. "Would you prefer to go?"