“Our oath is nearly fulfilled, and the fearful wrong you did our sister is about to be avenged, and justice will at last be done. We have hunted and tracked you for long, long years; we have seen you plot evil and suffering for others, and only waited for a favorable opportunity to wreak our own vengeance upon you. That opportunity has at last arrived. You are soon to be called to account for your treacherous and sin-blackened career.”
“Oh, you will not kill me; you will let me live a little longer!” cried the wretched man, trembling with terror.
“Who killed our sister? Who came into a peaceful, loving family, created discord and sorrow, blighted every joy and hope it had ever known, dishonored its fair name, and broke the hearts of a loving father and a tender, devoted daughter? Do you deserve to be spared? Think you there is one iota of pity in my heart for such a wretch as you? No! As I said before, your doom is sealed, and justice shall have her due.”
“Mercy—mercy!” the squire gasped, writhing in agony at their feet.
“Mercy!” thundered Count Gerient, of Lamerack. “Were you merciful when you deserted her whose innocent heart and affections were won by your artful schemes, whom you made your wife that you might fill your purse with gold, and finding none, pronounced your marriage a trick, broke her gentle heart, and heartlessly left her to suffer poverty and childbirth alone. Mercy to such as you? Wretch, unnatural father, who never cared even to look upon his offspring’s face, or clasp in his arms the tiny creature formed from his own flesh and blood! No! no mercy shall be shown you; we have sworn it, and our oath is inviolable.”
The cringing villain turned shiveringly to his sister; his teeth chattered in his head, and huge drops of cold perspiration rolled down his shrunken cheeks.
“Oh, Rose,” he cried, “plead for me; do not let them murder me; think how I reared your boy; I cared for him for over twenty years, and do I not deserve something for it? I cannot die now. I shall go to eternal perdition—oh, save me, save me!”
His sister’s lips curled slightly at the sight of his abject fear, though her face was pale as death as she replied, huskily:
“It would please me better, Ralph Moulton, to see you on your knees pleading to Heaven for mercy. You cannot expect much love from me, though I would that you had time to repent.”
“Oh, Heaven! will no one help me?”