“All done to deceive herself, as well as her lover, into the idea that she hates him as a ‘traitor’ ought to be hated—according to her creed! Ha, ha, ha! We shall have a stormy wedding at the Black Bear’s Pass to-morrow; but in a day or two the storm will have passed and all will be sunshine!” laughed Vittorio, gayly.
“But how, in heaven’s name, is any marriage to take place without the woman’s consent? Elfie may be carried off and kept prisoner by physical force; but no physical force on earth can make her the wife of Albert Goldsborough!”
“He will find a way to make her consent to marry him, and make her confess that she loves him, too!” laughed Vittorio.
“Judging from what I had seen, I should think she would tear him to pieces first!”
“She can’t! He’s tough! She’ll tear him frightfully, no doubt! But he will stand a great deal of tearing from those pretty hands, with the certainty that it will all end in their caressing him. But this path is becoming very narrow and obstructed. Let me go before, dearest, and put aside the branches for you,” said Colonel Corsoni, taking the lead.
So they journeyed on until sometime in the afternoon, when once more they encountered Goldsborough and Elfie. He was pausing at a forest rivulet to let his horse drink.
“We need something to drink as well as our beasts. What do you think, Colonel?” inquired Goldsborough.
In reply Corsoni handed the speaker a flask of brandy, from which Goldsborough took a deep draught.
“That is a genuine article, Colonel, where ever you got it from,” he said, handing back the flask to its owner.
“A present from Mutchison,” said Corsoni.