“Give up the girl,” said Donal sternly, “or I will raise the town, and have a crowd about the house in three minutes.”
“You are the devil!” cried Forgue. “There! take her—with the consequences! If you had let us alone, I would have done my part.—Leave us now, and I’ll promise to marry her. If you don’t, you will have the blame of what may happen—not I.”
“But you will, dearest?” said Eppy in a tone terrified and beseeching.
Gladly she would have had Donal hear him say he would.
Forgue pushed her from him. She burst into tears. He took her in his arms again, and soothed her like a child, assuring her he meant nothing by what he had said.
“You are my own!” he went on; “you know you are, whatever our enemies may drive us to! Nothing can part us. Go with him, my darling, for the present. The time will come when we shall laugh at them all. If it were not for your sake, and the scandal of the thing, I would send the rascal to the bottom of the stair. But it is better to be patient.”
Sobbing bitterly, Eppy went with Donal. Forgue stood shaking with impotent rage.
When they reached the street, Donal turned to lock the door. Eppy darted from him, and ran down the close, thinking to go in again by the side door. But it was locked, and Donal was with her in a moment.
“You go home alone, Eppy,” he said; “it will be just as well I should not go with you. I must see lord Forgue out of the house.”
“Eh, ye winna hurt him!” pleaded Eppy.