“What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. “Annabel;” he moaned. ‘And take you this sword. He appeared to thunder dire happenings if she did not obey him without further ado. "The ceiling is breaking! the floor is opening! he is coming to me!" cried the unhappy woman. Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. So the talk went on. She could feel her face turning beet red.
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