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Southworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte, 1819-1899

"Capitola the Madcap"


"A pretty bridal dress, this; but, however, I suppose these men are
no more particular about my costume than they are about their own
conduct," said Cap.
She had just drawn on her gloves when she heard the footsteps of two
men approaching. They rapped at the door.
"Come in," she sobbed, in a low, broken voice, that might have
belonged to any girl in deep distress, and she put a white cambric
handkerchief up to her eyes and drew her thick veil closely over her
face.
The two Le Noirs immediately entered the room. Craven approached her
and whispered, softly:
"You will forgive me this, my share in these proceedings after
awhile, sweet Clara! The Sabine women did not love the Roman youths
the less that they were forcibly made wives by them."
"Ee-hee! Ee-hee! Ee-hee!" sobbed Cap, entirely concealing her white
cambric handkerchief under her impenetrable veil.
"Come, come! we lose time!" said the elder Le Noir "Draw her arm
within yours, Craven, and lead her out."
The young man did as he was directed and led Cap from the room. It
was now quite dark--the long, dreary passage was only dimly lighted
by a hanging lamp, so that with the care she took there was scarcely
a possibility of Capitola's being discovered. They went on, Craven
Le Noir whispering hypocritical apologies and Cap replying only by
low sobs.


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