“Yes, yes,” she panted.
“That you will neither by word nor deed betray me.”
“Yes,” she said hoarsely. “I swear.”
“Thanks, dear one,” he whispered. “It is but for a few days. Mind, they have found one of my treasure stores; they shall work for me—for us—in ignorance, and bring it all to the surface. For us, Hester. You need not turn away; I read your heart, and that you will love me as I love you soon, and you shall revel in wealth like an Eastern princess. But now you must swear more; I cannot wait. I will not have those loathing looks and angry eyes directed at me. You shall swear that you will be mine when and where I ask it of you, or—”
“Are you some fiend?” exclaimed Hester with a look of horror as she saw his foot pressing the tube.
“No,” he whispered passionately, “only a man whom you have driven nearly mad with your beauty, and who can and will suffer no more. Have you not always been cold and rejected me, even in spite of my prayers? Now I am driven to extremities. Swear that you will be mine, or Dutch Pugh dies beneath your feet.”
“I cannot—will not,” she faltered, with her senses reeling.
“Cannot! Will not! You must and shall. You know that I have but to keep my foot firmly pressed down for a few moments, and he becomes senseless. And what then? Who in the confusion will know that it was I? Swear it to me, girl, this moment. Hester, I implore, as well as command. Have I not told you my love? Listen to me. Have I not followed you here—done everything for your sake?”
“I will not swear,” exclaimed Hester in low, panting tones, and then she uttered a faint cry, which was checked on the instant, as with a look of passionate rage that he could not control she saw Lauré flatten the tube, and knew that it was to her husband’s death.
“Will you swear now?” he whispered. “He is dying. Will you not save him?”