"You are coming, Auriol?" cried Edith, who scarcely knew whether to draw back or go forward.
"Yes—yes," cried Auriol, who fancied he saw a means of escape. "This is my friend, Mr. Rougemont—go with him."
"Mr. Rougemont!" cried Edith. "You told my father he would not be here."
"Your husband did not invite me, madam," said Rougemont, with sarcastic emphasis; "but knowing I should be welcome, I came unasked. But let us avoid those persons."
In another moment they were at the door. The carriage was there with its four horses, and a man-servant, in travelling attire, stood beside the steps. Reassured by the sight, Auriol recovered his courage, and suffered Rougemont to throw a cloak over Edith's shoulders. The next moment she tripped up the steps of the carriage, and was ensconced within it. Auriol was about to follow her, when he received a violent blow on the chest, which stretched him on the pavement. Before he could regain his feet, Rougemont had sprung into the carriage. The steps were instantly put up by the man-servant, who mounted the box with the utmost celerity, while the postillions, plunging spurs into their horses, dashed off with lightning speed. As the carriage turned the corner of King Street, Auriol, who had just arisen, beheld, by the light of a lamp, Rougemont's face at the window of the carriage, charged with an expression of the most fiendish triumph.
"What is the matter?" cried Mr. Talbot, who had approached Auriol, "I came to bid you good-bye. Why do I find you here alone? Where is the carriage?—what has become of Edith?"
"She is in the power of the Fiend, and I have sold her to him," replied Auriol gloomily.
"What mean you, wretch?" cried Mr. Talbot, in a voice of distraction. "I heard that Cyprian Rougemont was here. Can it be he that has gone off with her?"
"You have hit the truth," replied Auriol. "He bought her with the money I gave you. I have sold her and myself to perdition!"
"Horror!" exclaimed the old man, falling backwards.