"And now," whispered Clara, while the pallor of horror overspread her face, "by threatening me with a fate worse than death, they would drive me to marry Craven Le Noir!"
"Yes, I know I would!" said Cap, as if speaking to herself, but by her tone and manner clothing these simple words in the very keenest sarcasm.
"What would you do, Capitola?" asked Clara, raising her tearful eyes to the last speaker.
"Marry Mr. Craven Le Noir and thank him, too!" said Cap. Then, suddenly changing her tone, she exclaimed:
"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 dead 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.