“Surely Ellen Harmer must be in the mansion somewhere,” he thought.
As he passed rapidly up the winding stairs towards the colonel’s own bed-chamber, he stopped and listened.
Two persons were conversing in quick, passionate tones.
The voice of one sounded like that of a female in distress.
Captain Jack listened attentively to all that passed.
“Nay, let me go, I beg of you, as you are a man and a gentleman,” said the female voice, in tones of anguish.
“Nay dearest,” was the soft reply, “you cannot fly, except with me. You must—you shall be mine!”
“Rather ten thousand deaths,” was the brave, resolute answer of the fair one, “rather ten thousand deaths than consent to my own dishonour! Unhand me, I say, unhand me! I took you for a gentleman—a man—but I am deceived—you are a scoundrel. Let me go—unhand me, I say, once for all, or I’ll shame you before all the world—I’ll raise the whole mansion with my cries.”
“’Tis useless to struggle, angelic being,” was the impassioned answer; “your beauty has entranced my very soul. Come, let us fly hence; all wealth, honour, and adulation shall be thine.”
“Help, help, help!” was the female’s feeble cry.