The Hunted Outlaw - or, Donald Morrison, the Canadian Rob Roy by Anonymous
page 63 of 76 (82%)
page 63 of 76 (82%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
you should have taken a life is dreadful--dreadful! but that you took
it in self-defence I fully believe. For God's sake, Donald, let the struggle end. You will be killed; or, carried away by passion, you may take another life, and then think of your terrible position. Can I move you? Once I could. I love you in this terrible hour as dearly as ever, and I would to God I could spare you what you must now suffer. But let me try to save you from yourself. Listen to reason. Give yourself up to Major Dugas. Your friends will procure the best legal advice, and who knows but that you may still have a future before you. Let me urge you," and she went up to him, and laid her hand upon his arm, while the tears streamed down her cheeks. Donald took her hand, and kissed it. He was greatly moved. "I can't, Minnie," he said. "I can't do it. I would never get a fair trial. I feel it. No, once arrested, they would either keep me in jail for ever, or hang me. I have baffled them now for nearly a year, and I can baffle them still. They must give up at last." "But have you not heard," Minnie said, "that they are bringing on fifteen more men from Quebec?" "Oh, yes," said Donald, smiling sadly it seemed, "I am kept well informed, though they have arrested most of my friends. Let them bring on a hundred men. They can't take me without I'm betrayed." "And I saw in the papers," said Minnie, with a look of horror, "that if these failed, they would employ bloodhounds against you." Donald flushed. "I can't believe they would dare to do such a thing," he said. "Public opinion would not stand it. No, I'm not afraid of that." |
|