“Too subtle?  Hast thou lost the art of penetration?  Then I’ll tell thee, thou—­the ‘Ranter,’ as they call thee.  Thou who hast become Bunyan’s squire.  I am going to poison my lady or give her a dagger thrust.  She must die.”

“Thou art the devil, Constance; but there is one who can outwit the devil, and he will do it, too.”

“What hast thou to say about it?”

“Thou shalt not do it.”

“What wilt thou do to prevent it?”

“I will put the house of Ellswold on their guard.”

“Thou wilt not help me to escape, and thou wilt run with tales to Ellswold.  Thou wouldst keep me here, that I might soon die, so thou couldst have my estates.  Poor, puny thing, that art upon death’s threshold now.  Thou wouldst have me die, so thou couldst live luxuriously and use as much of my wealth as thou couldst, leaving behind a paltry residue for the Crown.  Thou wouldst indeed!” said Constance, scornfully, as she fumbled in the folds of her dress for the small bottle hidden there.

“Constance,” said Cantemir, under his breath, as he lifted one of the mixtures before him, “thou must not kill.  Let me awaken thy better nature—­”

“Nay; she must die!”

“I will not remain longer with thee, if thou dost hold such foul intent.  Take back thy words.  I will give thee no rest until thou dost.  There is a God who will sweeten thy ill feeling for Katherine—­”

“Shut thy mouth, fool!” and she spoke with such fury Adrian’s heart sank within him, and his head fell upon his arms upon the table.  “Thou wilt have a season of prayer, then; so be it.  Maybe, if thou prayest with thy whole heart for sixty seconds, mine will change,” and as she said the words, she dropped some deadly thing into his glass.

The wine was not moved nor discoloured, and as Cantemir raised his head, took hold upon it, and lifted and drank it nearly half.

“I love thee, cousin, with a Christian spirit, and I cannot see thee lose thy—­soul.”  A shiver passed through his thin frame, and when he again began to speak, he drooled sick’ningly.  “I say thou shalt not—­kill her—­and some one—­else says it—­I will watch thee in spirit—­”

Constance wished him to die quickly, that she might not be obliged to look upon prolonged horrors.  She could easily arrange his position, with his head upon the table, to look quite natural, as if in drunken sleep, and when the keeper came, she would give him a like portion, before he could make any discovery, and when they were both despatched, she would don Cantemir’s attire and take the keeper’s keys and be gone.  She quickly poisoned another glass, then looked at Cantemir.  So horrible was the glassy glare in his eye, she made as if to arise from the table, but he leant over and grasped her hand.  Constance’ face was livid with fear, and beside, she heard the gaoler.  As the keys were turned in the door, Cantemir’s head dropped back against