Throwing one arm around her throat, with his hand upon her mouth, he forced her head back against his breast and applied the chloroform until she succumbed to its fatal power and sunk like a corpse in his arms.
Then his two accomplices took her, and by the same winding route of halls, stairs, and passages carried her out of the castle and down to the beach, where the boat was waiting to receive her. They put her into it, and the viscount, the captain, and the mate followed. In three minutes they reached the vessel, and all went on board, taking the captive girl with them.
The viscount accompanied the captain to his little office and received the six hundred pounds in gold which was the price of this last infamy.
Then the accomplices shook hands and parted.
The sailors rowed the viscount back to the shore, and then returned to their vessel. The viscount stood on the beach, watching the brigantine until she raised her anchor and made sail. And then, as it was growing light, he turned and climbed the cliff and entered the castle, wearing a smile of triumph.
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE END OF CLAUDIA'S PRIDE.
Is she saved by pangs that pained her?
Is there comfort in all it cost her?
Before the world had gained her,
Before the Lord had lost her,
Or her soul had quite disdained her?
For her soul—(and this is the worst
To bear, as we well know)—
Has been watching her from the first
As closely as God could do,
And herself her life has curst!
Talk of the flames of hell,
We build, ourselves, I conceive,
The fire the fiend lights.—Well!
Believe or disbelieve,
We know more than we tell.
—Owen Meredith.