“I overheard what you said to him,” rejoined the jailer. “You told him that you loved him—that you had loved no other—and would wed no other.”
“I told him the truth,” exclaimed Cicely. “I do love him, and will wed him.”
“It is false,” cried Nightgall, laughing maliciously. “You will never see him again.”
“How know you that?” she cried, in alarm.
“He has left the Tower—for ever,” returned the jailer, moodily.
“Impossible!” cried Cicely. “The Duke of Northumberland has given orders that no one shall go forth without a pass. Besides, he told me he was returning to the palace.”
“I tell you he is gone,” thundered Nightgall. “Hear me, Cicely,” he continued, passionately. “I have loved you long—desperately. I would give my life—my soul for you. Do not cast me aside for this vain court-gallant, who pursues you only to undo you. He would never wed you.”
“He has sworn to do so,” replied Cicely.
“Indeed!” cried Nightgall, grinding his teeth, “The oath will never be kept. Cicely, you must—you shall be mine.”
“Never!” replied the maiden. “Do you suppose I would unite myself to one whom I hate, as I do you?”