The Outlaw of Torn

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Page 139

in truth I did really love Roger de Conde, but
thee--oh Norman, why is it that there be no shred of doubt now, that
this heart, this soul, this body be all and always for the Outlaw of

"I do not know," he said simply and gravely. "So wonderful a thing be
beyond my poor brain; but I think my heart knows, for in very joy, it
is sending the hot blood racing and surging through my being till I were
like to be consumed for the very heat of my happiness."

"Sh!" she whispered, suddenly, "methinks I hear footsteps. They must not
find thee here, Norman of Torn, for the King has only this night wrung
a promise from my father to take thee in the morning and hang thee. What
shall we do, Norman? Where shall we meet again?"

"We shall not be separated, Bertrade; only so long as it may take thee
to gather a few trinkets, and fetch thy riding cloak. Thou ridest north
tonight with Norman of Torn, and by the third day, Father Claude shall
make us one."

"I am glad thee wish it," she replied. "I feared that, for some reason,
thee might not think it best for me to go with thee now. Wait here, I
will be gone but a moment. If the footsteps I hear approach this door,"
and she indicated the door by which he had entered the little room,
"thou canst step through this other doorway into the adjoining
apartment, and conceal thyself there until the danger passes."

Norman of Torn made a wry face, for he had no stomach for hiding himself
away from danger.

"For my sake," she pleaded. So he promised to do as she bid, and she ran
swiftly from the room to fetch her belongings.


When the little, grim, gray man had set the object covered with a cloth
upon the table in the center of the room and left the apartment, he did
not return to camp as Norman of Torn had ordered.

Instead, he halted immediately without the little door, which he left a
trifle ajar, and there he waited, listening to all that passed between
Bertrade de Montfort and Norman of Torn.

As he heard the proud daughter of Simon de Montfort declare her love for
the Devil of Torn, a cruel smile curled his lip.

"It will be better than I had hoped," he muttered, "and easier. 'S blood!
How much easier now that Leicester, too, may have his whole proud heart
in the hanging of Norman of Torn. Ah, what a sublime

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