"I do believe you, Donald Bayne," said Capitola, in a broken voice.
"I hear that you have come into your estate. I am glad of it. And they
tell me that you are going to be married to-morrow! Well! God bless
you, little one!"
"Oh, Donald Bayne! Can you say God bless me, when it was I who put you
here?"
"Tut, child, we outlaws bear no malice. Spite is a civilized vice. It
was a fair contest, child, and you conquered. It's well you did. Give
me your hand in good will, since I must die to-morrow!"
Capitola gave her hand, and whilst he held it, she stooped and said: "Donald, I have done everything in the world I could to save your
life!"
"I know you have, child. May yours be long and happy."
"Donald, may your life be longer and better than you think. I have
tried all other means of saving you in vain; there is but one means
left!"
The outlaw started violently, exclaiming: "Is there one?"
"Donald, yes! There is! I bring you the means of deliverance and
escape. Heaven knows whether I am doing right--for I do not! I know
many people would blame me very much, but I hope that He who forgave
the thief upon the cross and the sinful woman at his feet, will not
condemn me for following His own compassionate example! For, Donald, as
I was the person whom you injured most of all others, so I consider
that I of all others have the best right to pardon you and set you
free. Oh, Donald! Use well the life I am about to give you, else I
shall be chargeable with every future sin you commit!"
"In the name of mercy, girl, do not hold out a false hope. I had nerved
myself to die!"
"But you were not prepared to meet your Maker! Oh, Donald! I hold out
no false hope! Listen, for I must speak low and quick. I could never be
happy again if on my wedding-day you should die a felon's death! Here!
here are tools with the use of which you must be acquainted, for they
were found in the woods near the Hidden House!" said Capitola,
producing from her pockets a burglar's lock-pick, saw, chisel, file,
etc.
Black Donald seized them as a famished wolf might seize his prey.
"Will they do?" inquired Capitola, in breathless anxiety.
"Yes--yes--yes! I can file off my irons, pick every lock, drive back
every bolt, and dislodge every bar between myself and freedom with
these instruments! But, child, there is one thing you have forgotten:
suppose a turnkey or a guard should stop me? You have brought me no
revolver!"