“It means that I have had enough of this slavery,” she declared. Instead, God had sent her Sebastianus, a man who had sold his soul to the Devil to gain eternal life, or perhaps he was even the Devil himself. The atmosphere seemed heavy with the odour of drugs. I have fulfilled my part of our marriage contract. Those lives removed,—and Sir Rowland is completely in his power, the estates would be yours—HIS! if he were your husband. It seemed an emblem of the ruin he had caused. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. “You don’t waste any time.
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