What do I
know--your forgiveness may perhaps preserve for penitence the
dregs of a wretched life.'
"'Ha!' said the lady, as a sudden light broke on her, 'it is the
villain himself!' And grasping Sir Philip Forester--for it was
he, and no other--by the collar, she raised a cry of 'Murder,
murder! seize the murderer!'
"At an exclamation so singular, in such a place, the company
thronged into the apartment; but Sir Philip Forester was no
longer there. He had forcibly extricated himself from Lady
Bothwell's hold, and had run out of the apartment, which opened
on the landing-place of the stair. There seemed no escape in
that direction, for there were several persons coming up the
steps, and others descending. But the unfortunate man was
desperate. He threw himself over the balustrade, and alighted
safely in the lobby, though a leap of fifteen feet at least, then
dashed into the street, and was lost in darkness. Some of the
Bothwell family made pursuit, and had they come up with the
fugitive they might perhaps have slain him; for in those days
men's blood ran warm in their veins. But the police did not
interfere, the matter most criminal having happened long since,
and in a foreign land.
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