“Mystery of mysteries—all is mystery!” exclaimed Montrose, involuntarily paraphrasing the Scripture proverb, as he gazed like one in a dream upon the thin, flashing face of the excited girl.
“And now promise me that you will not go to the Anchorage to do what you threatened, or even attempt to hinder me in any way.”
“I promise,” answered Malcolm, “though I do so in blind confidence.”
“Your faith shall be justified, if ever faith was.”
“I promise,” repeated Malcolm, like one under the influence of a spell.
“That will do; I know that you will keep your word; and now that I have your pledge, I will tell you—”
“Your plan?”
“No! But why it is I cannot confide that plan to you, Mr. Montrose;—because if I were to impart to you or to any other human being the nature of my plan, it could never be accomplished, and Eudora would be left to die.”
“But look at the clock! the hour of your daily visit to the prison is approaching, and I will not detain you any longer. Give my love to Eudora, and explain to her why I cannot come to her. Good-bye. Remember!”
And so saying, Annella seized and dropped his hand, and vanished from the room, leaving Montrose still under her spell.