“It is so, Mr. Ormiston; and in my heart I have vowed a vow to plunge headlong into the most loathsome plague-pit in London, rather than ever raise it again. My friend, be satisfied. Go and leave me; go and forget me.”
“I can do neither until I have ceased to forget every thing earthly. Madame, I implore you, hear me!”
“Mr. Ormiston, I tell you, you but court your own doom. No one can look on me and live!”
“I will risk it,” he said with an incredulous smile. “Only promise to show me your face.”
“Be it so then!” she cried almost fiercely. “I promise, and be the consequences on your own head.”
His whole face flushed with joy.
“I accept them. And when is that happy time to come?”
“Who knows! What must be done, had best be done quickly; but I tell thee it were safer to play with the lightning's chain than tamper with what thou art about to do.”
“I take the risk! Will you raise your mask now?”
“No, no—I cannot! But yet, I may before the sun rises. My face”—with bitter scorn—“shows better by darkness than by daylight. Will you be out to see, the grand illumination.”