Is there no inducement that I can hold out to you to leave me?"

"None!"

Capitola raised herself from her leaning posture, took a step backward,
so that she stood entirely free from the trap-door, then slipping her
foot under the rug, she placed it lightly on the spring-bolt, which she
was careful not to press; the ample fall of her dress concealed the
position of her foot.

Capitola was now paler than a corpse, for hers was the pallor of a
living horror! Her heart beat violently, her head throbbed, her voice
was broken as she said:

"Man, I will give you one more chance! Oh, man, pity yourself as I pity
you, and consent to leave me!"

"Ha, ha, ha! It is quite likely that I will! Isn't it, now? No, my
duck, I haven't watched and planned for this chance for this long time
past to give it up, now that you are in my power! A likely story
indeed! And now the five minutes' grace are quite up!"

"Stop! Don't move yet! Before you stir, say: 'Lord, have mercy on me!"
said Capitola, solemnly.

"Ha, ha, ha! That's a pretty idea! Why should I say that?"

"Say it to please me! Only say it, Black Donald!"

"But why to please you?"

"Because I wish not to kill both your body and soul--because I would
not send you prayerless into the presence of your Creator! For, Black
Donald, within a few seconds your body will be hurled to swift
destruction, and your soul will stand before the bar of God!" said
Capitola, with her foot upon the spring of the concealed trap.

She had scarcely ceased speaking before he bounded to his feet, whirled
around and confronted her, like a lion at bay, roaring forth:

"You have a revolver there, girl--move a finger and I shall throw
myself upon you like an avalanche?"

"I have no revolver--watch my hands as I take them forth, and see!"
said Capitola, stretching her arms out toward him.

"What do you mean, then, by your talk of sudden destruction?" inquired
Black Donald, in a voice of thunder.

"I mean that it hangs over you--that it is imminent! That it is not to
be escaped! Oh, man, call on God, for you have not a minute to live!"

The outlaw gazed on her in astonishment.

Well he might, for there she stood paler than marble--sterner than
fate--with no look of human feeling about her, but the gleaming light
of her terrible eyes, and the beading sweat upon her death-like brow.

For an instant the outlaw gazed on her in consternation, and then,
recovering himself he burst into a loud laug