"Have you done?" she asked, in a tone of disdain for what she deemed the idle words of the speaker.
"I have," she answered, with a peculiar smile, that troubled and perplexed her. "But I would ask thee--wouldst love him then?"
"I will answer thee--if such things could be, which ne'er can be--No. In this case, guilt would place for ever an impassable gulf between us. But, as thou hast so much interest in him, let me pass that I may meet him, for I hear his horse's feet in the forest," she said, with the contempt of incredulity, yet trembling--so well the supposed case advanced by Elpsy tallied with the circumstances under which Lester left her--lest there might be some dreadful truth at the bottom.
"His horse's feet thou wilt never hear more. Himself thou wilt never see more, save to thy sorrow."
"Explain, woman," she almost shrieked, grasping her by the shoulders, and speaking with wild vehemence.
"Robert of Lester has become even as I have spoken. Maddened by thy coldness--his pride stung--his self-love wounded--his feelings lacerated, he has fled his home, and leagued himself with bucaniers."
"In the name of the blessed Heaven above, do you speak but a tithe of the truth, woman?" she demanded, with fearful emotion.
"He galloped to the seaside, and a Danish bucanier being by chance in shore, he threw himself on board, and put to sea with her."
"One word, only one word more! You saw this?"
"Would to God I knew if thou didst tell the truth or no," she cried, almost sinking upon the ground.
"Behold this token which he gave me, bidding me return it to the giver, who, he said--mark the words, maiden!--was henceforth only worthy the scorn and contempt of the noble heart she had broken," spoke the false witch, taking, as if struck by a sudden thought, the locket and message from her bosom and placing it in her hands.
"It is too true. Merciful Heaven, sustain me! Nay! Elpsy, touch me not. I shall not fall. No, I _will_ not fall! If--if he can scorn me--I--nay--do not support me--my pride will--will--oh--Lester, Lester--you have killed me!"
With a deep moan, as if her heart were bursting, she fell into the arms of the sorceress, who, not wholly unmoved by the wretchedness she had caused, placed her on one of the settees, and, with a look of triumph, gazed on her pale cheek, and watched the irregular and long-drawn heaving of her bosom. Her success had been complete, and she experienced a joy kindred to that of a fiend's when he beholds the fall of a good man. She had made the happy miserable, and was content! She had wounded the pride of the noble, and was satisfied. She had been the bearer of guilt to innocence, and her task was accomplished!