"Futile!"
"Yes."
"Why—oh, what mean you, Madeline? Who are you, that it should be so?"
"I am—I am——"
"Who—who?"
"One whom you must ever know for your deadly enemy," she replied, in a voice half-stifled by emotion.
Had a bomb exploded at the feet of Florence, he could not have been more astounded than by this strange relation.
"She is a kinswoman of Glencairn or Kilmaurs," thought he; "well, I can forgive her even that."
For a minute he was silent, as if overwhelmed by sadness and astonishment. At last he said,—
"My enemy—you?"