"Never! never! I would sooner die than that. Let us go back at once—at once!"
He caught me by the wrist, and forced me to look into his face. It was unwise of him to touch me against my will, for the fire flashed into my eyes, and my anger gave me strength.
"Margharita, what does this mean? You do care for a me a little, don't you?"
"No!"
I lied, God knows, and all in vain.
"Perhaps not so very much now," he said, with a little sigh, "but you will some day. I know that you will. Be generous, Margharita, give me a little hope."
I laid my hand upon his arm. How could I convince him. Anger, lies, reasoning, all seemed so weak and ineffective; and he was so strong—strong in his own love, strong unconsciously in mine.
"Lord Lumley, I can only give you one answer, and that is—'No.' Nothing can change me. I would sooner throw myself from these cliffs than become your wife."
He considered for a moment, while I watched him anxiously.
"I have a right to know your reason for that speech," he said in a low but firm tone. "Give me your hands for one moment, Margharita—so! Now, look me in the eyes, and tell me that you do not care for me!"