y. "I leave you
not!" cried she, breathless and pale as death. "You dare not repulse me,
for you have sworn that we shall live and die together."

He hurled her from him in fierce wrath, and drew himself up before her,
lofty and threatening.

"I forbid you to follow me!" cried he, in a tone of command. She reeled
back against the wall and looked at him, trembling and breathless.

He was still lord over her soul; she was still subject to him in love
and obedience. She could not therefore summon up courage to defy his
command.

She beheld him as he left the room and passed down the corridor with his
dreadful train; she heard their footsteps gradually die away; and then
suddenly in the yard sounded the hollow roll of the drum.

Jane Douglas fell on her knees to pray, but her lips trembled so much
that she could find no words for her prayer.

The roll of the drum ceased in the court below, and only the death-bell
still continued to wail and wail. She heard a voice speaking loud and
powerful words.

It was his voice; it was Henry Howard that was speaking. And now again
the hollow roll of the drums drowned his voice.

"He dies! He dies, and I am not with him!" cried she, with a shriek; and
she gathered herself up, and as if borne by a whirlwind she dashed out
of the room, through the corridor, and down the stairs.

There she stood in the court. That dreadful black pile above there, in
the midst of this square crowded with men--that was the scaffold.
Yonder she beheld him prostrate on his knees. She beheld the axe in the
headsman's hand; she saw him raise it for the fatal stroke.

She was a woman no longer, but a lioness! Not a drop of blood was in her
cheeks. Her nostrils were expanded and her eyes darted lightning.

She drew out a dagger that she had concealed in her bosom, and made a
path through the amazed, frightened, yielding crowd.

With one spring she had rushed up the steps of the scaffold. She now
stood by him on the top of it--close by that kneeling figure.

There was a flash through the air. She heard a peculiar whiz--then a
hollow blow. A red vapor-like streak of blood spurted up, and covered
Jane Douglas with its crimson flood.

"I come, Henry, I come!" cried she, with a wild shout. "I shall be with
thee in death!" And again there was a flash through the air. It was the
dagger that Jane Douglas plunged into her heart.

She had struck well. No sound--no groan burst from her lips. With a
proud smi