The only furniture in this cellar was a straw cot, on which Nell had been laid, and a low stool. The girl felt terribly sick and weak when she came to realize her condition.
She could understand now the truth, when too late, that she had been enticed from home by a villain, and naturally enough her thoughts reverted to Harper Elliston.
Yet, why should she think of that man? Surely he was not wicked enough to stoop to anything of this kind.
Nell was not to be left long in suspense, however. The door to her prison creaked on its hinges, and a man entered and stood confronting her in the gray light.
It was Harper Elliston.
There was a smile on his sinister countenance, and he stroked his beard with the coolest insolence imaginable.
"How do you find yourself this morning, my dear?" questioned Elliston in a low voice.
"This is your work, villain!"
"Hush; don't speak in such a harsh tone, Nell," answered Mr. Elliston, with a deprecatory wave of the hand. "I cannot permit you to impugn my motive, Miss Darrel. I claim that all is fair in love and war. You know from repeated assurances on my part that I love you; once I wished to make you my wife. Blame me not if I have changed my mind on that score; it is you who have driven me to it. Nevertheless, I am constrained to deal justly and kindly with you, my girl, and again offer to share my New York palace with you. Could anything be more generous?"
The infamy of his proposition roused all the fire in the nature of Nell Darrel.