“O, call if you like, my love; bai Jove, as much as you like! only you may save yourself the trouble, for no one will hear you. What!” he cried, laughing, “can the little gentle dove turn savage, and ruffle her plumes and peck? Come, now, what is the use of being vicious? You have thrown away that delicate little gossamer dress that ladies call fame, so why not say pleasantly, ‘My dear Maximilian, let us be married at once, and live happy ever after’? No, it’s of no use; you are not going to jump out on to the line to be broken up, I value you too much; and as I told you before, it is of no use to scream. There’s no dear Charley Vining to come to your help, for he is too busy with his fiancée, my sweet sister Laura. Now, come, sit still and listen. Are you going to be reasonable? It’s of no use to be angry because I brought you off so cleverly; and bear in mind that I have been waiting months upon months, with the patience of half-a-dozen Jobs, to bring this plan from the most raw sourness to full ripening. Confound the girl! how strong she is! Bai Jove, Ella, you are a little Tartar!”
Max Bray had talked on, and part of what he had said was understood; but no explanation was needed. Ella Bedford knew one thing—that she had been cruelly betrayed, and that she was in the hands of a brutal heartless libertine, who, under the guise of a gentleman, possessed a nature blacker than that of the lowest rough in London.
He spoke on, holding her wrists pinioned as he did so; but despair and the fever fire in her blood gave her strength, and twice over it was only by a desperate struggle that he was able to prevent her from dashing herself through the open window.
She did not cry out, feeling that it would be useless; but her struggles to escape from his pinioning hands were frantic, till there came a warning shriek from the engine. The train drew up at a platform, and as Max started back into his seat, the carriage-door opened, and Ella Bedford fainted.
“Taken ill,” said Max in explanation. “Half mad, bai Jove! Hard work to keep her from dashing out of the window. Most painful thing.”
“Friend or stranger?” said the newcomer, suspiciously watching the countenance of Max.
“Friend or stranger!” said Max. “Bai Jove, that’s cool. My wife—travelling for pleasure.”
“I beg pardon, I’m sure,” said the stranger; “but I should certainly alight at the next station. Your pleasure-travel is over, sir, and you must get all the medical aid you can, for your lady is in a high state of fever.”
“Fever!” cried Max, involuntarily shrinking.
“Yes,” said the other, with a look of contempt. “But you need not fear, sir; I should say it is the brain. The lady has evidently suffered from some severe mental strain.”