"
"A moment more, my lord," cried Lady Lake. "If I detain her it is to
clear her character. I know her to be perfectly innocent."
At this announcement, Dick Taverner's countenance brightened, and he
extended his arms towards Gillian, who gladly availed herself of his
support.
"I am quite sure she was not the person I surprised in your chamber last
night," continued Lady Lake.
"Indeed, Madam! How do you arrive at that conviction?"
"Because that person's hair was jet black, whereas Gillian's, as we
see, is of the exactly opposite colour."
Dick Taverner could not help pressing his lips against the back of the
pretty damsel's neck as this was uttered.
"Your proof of this, Madam?" demanded Lord Roos.
"Behold it!" she cried. "This look of hair was cut off before your
visitant escaped, and has remained in my possession ever since. Ha! how
is this?" she exclaimed, as she unfolded the packet, and disclosed a
tress of fair hair, evidently matching Gillian's lint-white locks. "What
transformation has taken place! Witchcraft has been practised. This is
the Countess's work."
"The minion must have been there, after all," cried Dick Taverner,
thrusting Gillian from him.
"The charge of witchcraft will not serve your turn, Madam," said Lord
Roos derisively. "The explanation is simple. Your eyes have deceived
you."
"Most palpably," cried the Conde de Gondomar, who had caught Gillian in
his arms, as the jealous apprentice cast her from him.
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