"You understand me not: these are my friends—they have been cruelly butchered."
"I am sorry they were Signore's friends; but by following me you may gain much—even by finding out about them."
"Wretched girl!" exclaimed Lord Wentworth; "is it possible you belong to this fierce gang?—so young, so innocent-looking! Ha!" he continued, looking on her with changed expression, "I see it now. I have been decoyed—duped!—fool that I was to come alone, and unarmed. I shall be set on, and murdered, and my head stuck by those! I will at least give them a chase for it," and he turned his horse's head.
"Hear me," cried the girl, "you wrong me, Signore—you wrong me! I have not deserved this! Follow me still—judge not by appearances, they may be against me: you will live to prove my truth; only have faith in one who would not for worlds injure you."
"By my soul, you take me for a fool! No, no, fair maiden, prevention is better than cure—you shan't get my head without a run for it."
"Once more, listen, my Lord. To return alone, even on that fleet horse, is certain death;—these woods are full of those who never missed their aim; and to go on with me is your only chance; and I vow by the great God—by the blessed Virgin—not a hair of your head shall be injured! Do you believe me?—look at my face and see if truth is not written there. Oh! for your own—my sake—follow on. I am not what I appear!"
The Earl looked at her; the moon shone full on her face—it was the face of a Madonna—no shade of falsehood there.
"I will follow—I will trust you; only remember, Signorina, if you deceive me you break your word, your oath, your honour,—lead on."
The mysterious guide[F] then reining her horse to the left, descended through the woods towards the river. He followed. The descent was difficult, and very steep; the moonlight hardly pierced the trees above.
"This girl," he thought, "is either the strangest and most faithful I ever met, or the worst arch-deceiver I ever was duped by."