“Your conscience! your religion!—”
“No, never! I can face the chance of death, but not the loss of him. Go! for God's sake, leave me!”
“You are lost, then,—and I have ruined you!”
“Come off, now or never,” cried Amyas, clutching him by the arm, and dragging him away like a child.
“You forgive me?” cried he.
“Forgive you?” and she burst into tears again.
Frank burst into tears also.
“Let me go back, and die with her—Amyas!—my oath!—my honor!” and he struggled to turn back.
Amyas looked back too, and saw her standing calmly, with her hands folded across her breast, awaiting Eustace and the servants; and he half turned to go back also. Both saw how fearfully appearances had put her into Eustace's power. Had he not a right to suspect that they were there by her appointment; that she was going to escape with them? And would not Eustace use his power? The thought of the Inquisition crossed their minds. “Was that the threat which Eustace had whispered?” asked he of Frank.
“It was,” groaned Frank, in answer.