"I wish—oh! how I wish it was only me in your place—that it was only me they were trying to marry against my will!"
"What would you do?" asked Clara, earnestly.
"What would I do? Oh! wouldn't I make them know the difference between their Sovereign Lady and Sam the Lackey? If I had been in your place and that dastard Le Noir had said to me what he said to you, I do believe I should have stricken him down with the lightning of my eyes! But what shall you do, my poor Clara?"
"Alas! alas! see here! this is my last resort!" replied the unhappy girl, showing the little pen-knife.
"Put it away from you! put it away from you!" exclaimed Capitola earnestly; "suicide is never, never, never justifiable! God is the Lord of life and death! He is the only judge whether a mortal's sorrows are to be relieved by death, and when He does not Himself release you, He means that you shall live and endure! That proves that suicide is never right, let the Roman pagans have said and done what they pleased. So no more of that! There are enough other ways of escape for you!"
"Ah! what are they? You would give me life by teaching me how to escape!" said Clara, fervently.
"The first and most obvious means that suggests itself to my mind," said Cap, "is to—run away!"
"Ah! that is impossible. The servants are warned; the doors are all locked; I am watched!"
"Then the next plan is equally obvious. Consent to go with them to the church, and when you get there, denounce them and claim the protection of the clergyman!"
"Ah! dear girl, that is still more impracticable. The officiating clergyman is their friend, and even if I could consent to act a deceitful part, and should go to church as if to marry Craven and upon getting there denounce him, instead of receiving the protection of the clergyman I should be restored to the hands of my legal guardian and be brought back here to meet a fate worse than death," said Clara, in a tone of despair.