"That country fellow? You shall never marry him! I swear it! He is a poor, supercilious fool and doesn't know it! He has nothing in this world, and has never seen anything beyond the limits of his father's farm."
"He has been to New York," interrupted Rita, in all seriousness.
Williams laughed. "I tell you he is a boor. He is a—"
"He is to be my husband, Mr. Williams, and I hope you will not speak ill of him," said Rita, with cold dignity.
"He is not to be your husband," cried Williams, angrily. "You shall be mine—mine; do you hear? Mine! I will have you, if I must—" he caught the girl in his arms, and pressing her head back upon the bend of his elbow, kissed her lips to his heart's content and to his own everlasting undoing. When he released her she started from the room, but he, grasping her arm, detained her, saying:—
"Rita, I beg your pardon. I lost my head. I am sorry. Forgive me."
"There can be no forgiveness for you," she said, speaking slowly, "and I wish you to let me leave the room."
"Rita, forgive me," he pleaded. "I tell you I was insane when I—I did that. You have almost driven me mad. You can surely forgive me when you know that my act was prompted by my love. Your heart is ready with forgiveness and love for every one but me, and I, more than all others, love you. I beg you to forgive me, and if I cannot have your love, forget what I have done this night and again be my friend."
After a long, painful pause, she spoke deliberately: "I would not marry you, Mr. Williams, if you were a king, or if I should die by reason of refusing you. I cannot now be even your friend. I shall tell my father and brother what you have done, and they will order you out of this house. I will tell Dic, and he will kill you!" Her eyes, usually so gentle, were hard and cold, as she continued: "There is the door. I hope you will never darken it again."
She again started to leave the room, and he again detained her. He knew that disgrace would follow exposure, and, being determined to silence her at any cost, said angrily:—