"You are inclined to do the prophetess this morning—but don't be such a fearful Cassandra, I beg."
She rose from her chair and folded her shawl about her.
"I need stay here no longer," she said, "I have told you what I came to say."
"Don't be so cruel as to run away so soon," he pleaded; "give my poor room the glory of your presence a little longer. You see to what I was driven before I could force myself to trouble you again. These are not proper apartments for a gentleman; you will admit I had an excuse. The whole thing is miserably humiliating."
"I shall be here on Monday," said Elizabeth, ignoring his excuses. "I shall have the money ready for you, but I will not bring it—those letters must be first placed in my hands."
"Ah! you are going to drive a hard bargain, I see."
"You have evaded so often, cheated me so often; I have given you thousands of dollars—this is the last—take it—enough to make you comfortable for years if you are careful; but the letters come into my possession first, and that paper too."
"You really mean to have your freedom, do you?" he asked, jestingly; "to sweep me out of your life for ever; that is hard."
"Don't think to cheat me; neither your forged writing or any pretence will answer here. I tell you I am desperate now—you can't force me down a step farther."
"You are a magnificent woman!" he exclaimed; "a wonderful woman! I don't believe the country could boast another such."