"Lady!" I exclaimed, "what fiend hath sent thee? Come ye to ask me to forgive my murderer? If you command it, I will."
"I would ask you to forgive your enemies," replied she, mildly; "but not for my sake."
"Yet it can only be for your sake," said I; "but tell me, lady, are you the wife of the man who has pursued me to death?"
"No—not his wife."
"But you will be?" cried I, hastily; "and you love him—tell me, do you not love him?"
She sighed—she burst into tears.
"Unhappy man," she returned, "what know you of me, that you torment me with questions that torture me?"
I thrust forth my fettered hand—I grasped hers.
"Tell me, lady," I exclaimed, "before my soul can receive the words of repentance which you come to preach—tell me—do you love him?"
"No!" she pronounced, emphatically; and her whole frame shook.