The scourge--its marks were there; and the scars of the
hard iron fetters, and many a cicatrice and welt, that told a
dismal tale of hard usage. But now he was loose, free to play the
brute--the baited, tortured brute that they had made him--now
without the cage, and ready to gloat over the victims his strength
should overpower. Horror! horror! I was the prey--the victim--
already in the tiger's clutch; and a deadly sickness came over me,
and the iron entered into my soul, and I longed to scream, and was
dumb! I died a thousand deaths as that morning wore on. I DARED
NOT faint. But words cannot paint what I suffered as I waited--
waited till the moment when he should open his eyes and be aware of
my presence; for I was assured he knew it not. He had entered the
chamber as a lair, when weary and gorged with his horrid orgy; and
he had flung himself down to sleep without a suspicion that he was
not alone. Even his grasping my sleeve was doubtless an act done
betwixt sleeping and waking, like his unconscious moans and
laughter, in some frightful dream.
Hours went on; then I trembled as I thought that soon the house
would be astir, that my maid would come to call me as usual, and
awake that ghastly sleeper.
Pages:
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618