"None!"
Capitola raised herself from her leaning posture, took a step backward, so that she stood entirely free from the trap-door, then slipping her foot under the rug, she placed it lightly on the spring-bolt, which she was careful not to press; the ample fall of her dress concealed the position of her foot.
Capitola was now paler than a corpse, for hers was the pallor of a living horror! Her heart beat violently, her head throbbed, her voice was broken as she said:
"Man, I will give you one more chance! Oh, man, pity yourself as I pity you, and consent to leave me!"
"Ha, ha, ha! It is quite likely that I will! Isn't it, now? No, my duck, I haven't watched and planned for this chance for this long time past to give it up, now that you are in my power! A likely story indeed! And now the five minutes' grace are quite up!"
"Stop! Don't move yet! Before you stir, say: 'Lord, have mercy on me!" said Capitola, solemnly.
"Ha, ha, ha! That's a pretty idea! Why should I say that?"
"Say it to please me! Only say it, Black Donald!"
"But why to please you?"
"Because I wish not to kill both your body and soul—because I would not send you prayerless into the presence of your Creator! For, Black Donald, within a few seconds your body will be hurled to swift destruction, and your soul will stand before the bar of God!" said Capitola, with her foot upon the spring of the concealed trap.