“My lady, this is too much for you! too much!” said the compassionate woman, weeping over the distress she had caused.

“No, no; go on, go on; I will hear it all.  My own senses, pitying Heaven! my own senses bear witness to it,” moaned Salome, in a smothered voice.

“Ah, my lady, it grieves me deeply to go on, as you bid me.  They met, Mr. John Scott, as he called himself, and Rose Cameron, at the time and place agreed on—­at midnight at Castle Lone, under the balcony near Malcolm’s Tower.  And there, my lady, he repeated to her that he was not going to marry anybody, reminding her that he was already married to herself; and he explained that something would happen before morning, which would put all thoughts of marrying and giving in marriage out of the heads of all parties concerned.  And then he—­”

A groan of anguish burst from the almost breaking heart of the wretched bride, as she lifted a face convulsed and deathly white with her soul’s great agony.

“My lady! oh, my lady!” exclaimed the woman, in much alarm.

“I heard it all!  I heard it all!” cried Salome, as if speaking to herself and unconscious of the presence of a hearer.  “I heard it all!  I heard it all!  Yea! my own senses were witnesses of my own dishonor and despair!” she groaned, as she threw her arms and her head violently forward upon the table.

“My lady, for mercy’s sake, my lady!” exclaimed the widow, standing up and bending over her.

“Oh, what a hell! what a hell is this world we live in!  And what devils walk to and fro upon the earth!—­devils beautiful and deceitful as the fallen archangel himself!” moaned Salome, all unconscious of the words.

“Ah, my dear lady, for goodness’ sake, now don’t talk so, that’s a darling,” coaxed the good woman.

“DO NOT HEED ME!  Go on! go on!  Give me the death-blow at once, and have done with it!” cried Salome, lifting her blanched and writhen face and wringing hands, and then dashing them down again.

The appalled visitor seemed stricken dumb.

“Go on, go on,” moaned the poor bride in a half smothered tone.

“Lord help me!  I have forgotten where I was!  I wish it had befallen anybody but me to have this here hard duty to do!  Where was I again?  Ah! under the balcony.  My lady, he told her to wait there for him until he came back.  And he went away, and was gone an hour or more.  Then he came back, and another man along of him.  The night was so still, she heard them coming before they got in sight.  And she heard them a talking in a low voice.  And Mr. John Scott he seemed awful put out about something or other as the other man had done agin his orders.  And he said, hoarse like, ‘I wouldn’t have had it done, no, not for all we have got by it!’ And the other one said, ’It couldn’t be helped.  The old man squealed, and we had to squelch him.’  Says Mr. John Scott:  ’You’ve brought the curse of Cain upon me!’ Says t’other one, ’It was chance.  What’s done is done, and can’t be undone.  What’s past remedy is past regret.  And what can’t be cured must be endured.  The old man squealed, and had to be squelched, or he’d have brought the house about our ears—­’”