The insolent abductor was all at once turned into the pleading lover. He earnestly prayed her to pardon him.
“Elfie, my best beloved—my only beloved, you will try to forgive me for this violence!” he murmured, in a low and gentle tone.
“If I do, Albert Goldsborough, I pray that Heaven may never forgive me!” she answered, passionately.
“My darling Elfie, Heaven never records our wicked prayers. If it did we should all be doomed!” he said, gently taking her hand.
“Don’t touch me, you wretch, unless you wish to drive me raving mad. I tell you I am on the brink of frenzy now! and frenzy may give me strength to slay you!” she exclaimed, struggling and snatching her hand from his grasp.
“Elfie, listen to me!” he pleaded.
But Elfie drowned his murmuring voice in a torrent of bitter scorn and furious invective, which she poured upon him without stint or measure.
He let her scold until she had exhausted herself, and had to pause for want of breath; then he took advantage of her silence and answered, gently:
“Elfie, to all your cruel reproaches I have but this to say in my defence—I love you; I have loved you ever since I first saw you, and I believe that you love me. In this belief, Elfie, I could not leave you among the Yankees to be perverted by them, to be set against your own old State, your faithful friends, and your one true lover, I could not, my Elfie.”
“You—ou! You—ou!” began Elfie, but she was too much out of breath to proceed, and so Albert resumed: