"I will tell you all the truth.

First, be not anxious as to your father; no accident has happened to him; he is sound and well.

Forgive me if you have suffered pain and doubt; but there was no other way.

That tale was only one of love's snares and tricks----" He paused, overcome, fascinated by Margaret's face, which of a sudden had grown awful--that of a goddess of vengeance, of a Medusa, which seemed to chill his blood to ice.
"A snare! A trick!" she muttered hoarsely, while her eyes flamed on him like burning stars.

"Thus then I pay you for your tricks." And in an instant he became aware that she had snatched a dagger from her bosom and was springing on him.
He could not move; those fearful eyes held him fast.