in, that I
was never guilty of murder, and that I only seemed to consent to your
death to save your life! Do you believe this? On the word of a dying
man it is truth!"

"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 breathes 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 wi