Quickly he seized her hands, and held them firmly against every effort to draw them away. His heart beat like a hammer, his eyes were flaming with the fire of his love, his lips quivered and twitched with the intensity of his emotion.
"Nellie," he said, "I can stand it no longer! That man is back again; I saw you with him to-day. I—oh!—time and again I have told you how I loved you. It is more than love—it is worship, almost. It has been so ever since you were a little girl and I carried you to school. You did care for me—you know you did—until this fellow came here and made us all wretched. Nellie, I will have an answer to-night. I will know if you love me; tell me, tell me now." It was no longer an imploring prayer, it was a demand.
Struggle though she might, she could not free herself. His eyes seemed to burn into hers, and she shrank from their wild gaze as though they stung to her very soul.
"Answer me," he said. "You told me you loved me last Christmas. Do you love me now?"
"Oh, Dick, I—I didn't know. I could not tell," she gasped; "I thought I loved you, but—"
"But now you know you love him, is it?" he almost hissed. "Do you know what I think of him? He is a scoundrel, a man without home or name. He has a history he dare not tell; he lies every time he answers a question; he wants to marry you because you will be rich, but that's all."
"You shall not speak of him so," she interrupted in wrath and indignation. "He is a gentleman, and he does love me, and all you say of him is false. I know he has been unhappy, unfortunate—"
"He has been more than that, I'll be bound," sneered Graham, all bitter, jealous anger now. "He is a criminal of some kind—mark my words."
"How dare you?" she cried; "oh, how dare you? He would crush you if you would dare speak so to him. I will never forgive you—never. I never want to see or speak to you again—"
"What do you say?" he gasped, livid with pain and misery.