( 220 )
leigh? Where have you concealed him? Why will Harleigh, the noble Harleigh, degrade himself by any concealment? Why stoop to the subtilty of circumspection, to spare himself the appearance of destroying one whose head, heart, and vitals, all feel the reality of the destruction he inflicts? And yet not he! No, no! 'tis my own ruthless star! He loves me not! he is not responsible for my misery, though he is master of my fate! Where is he? where is he? You,—who are the tyrant of his! tell me, and at once!"
"I solemnly protest to you, Madam, with the singleness of the most scrupulous truth," cried Juliet, recovering her presence of mind, "I am entirely ignorant of his abode, his occupations, and his intentions." Ah why, she secretly added, am I not equally unacquainted with his feelings and his wishes!
Unable to discredit the candour with which this was pronounced, and filled with wonder, yet involuntarily consoled,
