She was silent now. A woman of quick wit, she saw at once toward what he tended, and knew no way to stop him. She was not astonished when he went on:
“I love you, and wish to make you my wife.”
She was on her guard immediately.
“You do me too much honor, Mr. Damand. It seems to me that the few days we have been acquainted are hardly sufficient to warrant you in taking this step. You will excuse me.”
“Not without an answer.”
“It seems to me there is but one answer. I must decline your proposal,” she answered, firmly.
“I supposed as much. That is nothing. I am prepared for any thing. What if I tell you I have a way of compelling you to accede to my demand?”
“If you were to tell me so, I think I should say you told a falsehood.”
“Then I should feel called upon to prove my words true. In the first place, then, you have a sort of feeling for the young person known as Bentley Morris. What if I were to tell you that his fate depends in a great measure upon you?”
“How can that be? He is in the hands of the Blackfeet.”