People think it is, but they are wrong. ‘I am not French in the least, bête. I did not lay any traps for her. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you. I love him!" She was weak and dizzy: from horror as much as from physical exertion. To settle things, you know. The wine was sweetened with cinnamon and cloves and rare edible flowers, which her father had instructed her not to drink excessively of. Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs. She was certain he would hear, sleeping in the nearby castle.
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