"I can give you a quarter of an hour wherein to make ready."
"A quarter of an hour," she murmured vaguely, "to make ready?... for what?"
"For immediate departure with me and your brother for Belgium."
Still she did not understand. A deep frown of puzzlement appeared between her brows.
"Departure?—with you?—what do you mean, my lord?" she asked.
"I mean," he replied roughly, "that out of the wreckage of all my ambitions, my desires and my hopes I will at least save something that will compensate me for all that I have lost. You said just now that life could only end in death. Well! next to mine ambition and my desire for vengeance, you, Gilda, as you know, do fill my entire soul. With you beside me I may try to begin life anew. I leave for the coast in less than half an hour; Nicolaes will be with us and he will care for you. But I will not go without you, so you must come with us."
"Never!" she said firmly.
But Stoutenburg only laughed with careless mockery.
"Who will protect you?" he said, "when I take you in my arms and carry you to the sledge, which in a quarter of an hour will be ready for you? Who will protect you when I carry you in my arms from the sledge to the boat which awaits us at Scheveningen?"
"Nicolaes," she rejoined calmly, "is my brother—he would not permit such an outrage."