"Wretch!" she cried, "you shall not force me to your hateful purpose. His thoughts, indeed, were too painful for utterance, and so acute were his feelings, that, for some time, they quite overcame him. Pile it on! But if you can hear the voice of the mote, the speck, don't let her suffer for anything I've done. You will never be happy with this hanging over you. Before she passed out she turned and faced Sir John. I can keep you. But she must not laugh. He was now at the entrance of the chapel, and striking the door over which he had previously climbed a violent blow with the bar, it flew open.
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