If Neil could go to the end like a
martyr he would at least make an attempt to do as much. Yet he could not
help from saying:
"What will become of Marion?"
He felt the tremor that passed through his companion's body.
"I have implored Winnsome to do all that she can to get her away,"
replied Neil. "If Marion won't go--" He clenched his hands with a
moaning curse and sprang to his feet, again pacing back and forth
through the gloomy dungeon. "If she won't go I swear that Strang's
triumph will be short!" he cried suddenly. "I can not guess the terrible
power that the king possesses over her, but I know that once his wife
she will not endure it long. The moment she becomes that, her bondage is
broken. I know it. I have seen it in her eyes. She will kill herself!"
Nathaniel rose slowly from the bench and came to his side.
"She won't do that!" he groaned. "My God--she won't do that!"
Neil's face was blanched to the whiteness of paper.
"She will," he repeated quietly. "Her terrible pact with Strang will
have been fulfilled. And I--I am glad--glad--"
He raised his arms to the dripping blackness of the dungeon ceiling, his
voice shaking with a cold, stifled anguish. Nathaniel drew back from
that tall, straight figure, step by step, as though to hide beyond the
flickering candle glow the betrayal that had come into his face, the
blazing fire that seemed burning out his eyes. If what Neil had said was
true--
Something choked him as he dropped alone upon the bench.
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