He was becoming restless, and I could see that the fever was mounting rapidly.

After a long pause he continued:-- "But, in a way, the loss of her regard is the least of my troubles, and I should bear it with equanimity, for if I am honest with her, I would not desire to keep it, as I can bring her no happiness.

It is the loss of my respect for her, the knowledge that I was wrong in deeming her better than other women, the humiliation of learning that I was a pitiable dupe in giving my love to one who could give herself to Charles Stuart, that hurts." I saw that he was trying to suppress his excitement, but it soon got the better of him.

He rose from his chair, drew the rug closer about him, and walked rapidly to and fro across the room a minute or two.

Being near my chair, he bent down to me, looked wildly about him to see that no one was eavesdropping, and whispered:-- "I intend to kill the king just as soon as I'm out of this.