‘You give me an excellent excuse to have in the Madeira,’ said his hostess, reaching for a silver hand bell and setting it pealing. “Child! An Oracle is a woman who has had her womb poisoned out of her, a eunuch. There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me. He talked with his manner gentle and kindly. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. ” “It is my wish to be alone,” she said wearily. Ennison had disappeared. ‘If he had, he’d have found the sword, see. This fall saved him, for the horsemen passed over him. And for twelve years he has been so; until his long security, well-nigh obliterating remembrance of the deed, has bred almost a sense of innocence within his breast. What of it?” There was a shout of laughter. The gallows is in view—I see it with all its hideous apparatus!—ough!" and shuddering violently, she placed her hands before her, as if to exclude some frightful vision from her sight.
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