“You cannot betray your husband he said, catching her in his arms.
“I cannot—I cannot,” she murmured, as her head fell upon his bosom.
Jane kept her husband’s secret. But her own peace of mind was utterly gone. Her walks—her studies—her occupations had no longer any charms for her. Even devotion had lost its solace. She could no longer examine her breast as heretofore—no longer believe herself reproachless! She felt she was an accessary to the great crime about to be committed; and with a sad presentiment of the result, she became a prey to grief,—almost to despair.
XXIII.—HOW XIT WAS IMPRISONED IN THE CONSTABLE TOWER; AND HOW HE WAS WEDDED TO THE “SCAVENGER’S DAUGHTER.”
Persuading himself that his capture was matter of jest, Xit kept up his braggadocio air and gait, until he found himself within a few paces of the Constable Tower,—a fortification situated on the east of the White Tower, and resembling in its style of architecture, though somewhat smaller in size, the corresponding structure on the west, the Beauchamp Tower. As Nightgall pointed to this building, and told him with a malicious grin that it was destined to be his lodging, the dwarf’s countenance fell. All his heroism forsook him; and casting a half-angry, half-fearful look at his guards, who were laughing loudly at his terrors, he darted suddenly backwards, and made towards a door in the north-east turret of the White Tower.
Nightgall and the guards, not contemplating any such attempt, were taken completely by surprise, but immediately started after him. Darting between the legs of the sentinel stationed at the entrance of the turret, who laughingly presented his partizan at him, Xit hurried up the circular staircase leading to the roof. His pursuers were quickly after him, shouting to him to stop, and threatening to punish him severely when they caught him. But the louder they shouted, the swifter the dwarf fled; and, being endowed with extraordinary agility, arrived, in a few seconds, at the doorway leading to the roof. Here half-a-dozen soldiers, summoned by the cries, were assembled to stop the fugitive. On seeing Xit, with whose person they were well acquainted—never supposing he could be the runaway,—they inquired what was the matter.
“The prisoner! the prisoner!” shouted Xit, instantly perceiving their mistake, and pushing through them, “Where is he? What have you done with him?”
“No one has passed us,” replied the soldiers. “Who is it?”