As she thought upon her situation, fear lent her strength, and she began to examine the walls of the cabin. For a half-hour she beat them and pushed at the heavy logs feebly; she ran about sobbing, beating them with her delicate hands until they bled; she mounted the stool and searched the strong roof; she vainly endeavored to force the door; she called on her father and lover frantically; then, when escape was only too vain, she began to pray, half-crazed.
At the expiration of the hour Downing entered and closed the door behind him.
Then he folded his arms and quietly gazed at her as she sat on the low, rude stool, in a semi-stupor.
“Well?” he said.
She made no reply, neither did she raise her eyes; but sat motionless.
“Well,” he continued, smiling slightly, “have you made up your mind?”
He expected here that she would show some spirit, at least a little resistance; but she neither did one nor the other.
“Have you resolved which alternative you will take?”
She answered in a faint voice, “I have.”
“Well, will you be my wife and gain a protecting husband?”