"Jennie, Jennie! spare me! oh, spare me! have some mercy!" cried Marguerite, sinking at her cousin's feet, and clinging to her with the force of desperation.
"Ask me not Madge. I can have no mercy in your case. Think me cruel as you will, I will always be of the same mind, and mother is indeed, if anything, a great deal harder upon you."
"She surely cannot be if she knew all Jennie," said Marguerite in wild, agonizing tones.
"She blames you for not having sufficient combativeness to oppose the influence brought to bear upon you."
"Surely Aunt Hester cannot think that I would be doing right to go contrary to the wish of my mother—yes, and all."
"She does, indeed. She says that you are to obey your parents only when their motives are honest and right, not otherwise, and you know well, Madge, that your father, were he in possession of all his senses, would never sanction such a course; and furthermore, Madge, I firmly believe that the very thought of it is consuming the few drops of blood that vainly try to give warmth to the broken heart."
"Jennie Montgomery, if you have one spark of pity, forbear. It is cruel to upbraid me with being my father's murderess, when I would willingly give my life to save him. Oh! Jennie, you cannot mean what you say. Oh! my poor father."
Marguerite was now an object of pity. Her hands were clasped above her head, and in that half-prostrate position she seemed a living representation of some Grecian maid who, more than two thousand years in the past, with like struggles, had climbed the marble steps leading to the Acropolis and with lips pallid as the ivory temple near, wailed out her woes to the myriads of deities that met her despairing gaze.
But for the nonce Jennie Montgomery had steeled her heart and looked as indifferent as a Zeno.
"It will do her good. There is more work on hand yet"—these and other remarks of a like nature escaped the daring girl as she rose to her feet and glanced at the angry clouds trooping along the grey November sky like hordes of insatiable warriors bent upon further deeds of prowess.