Ruth shook her head.
‘That dream is over,’ she said softly. ‘Our paths in life are henceforward separate as the poles.
Marston seized her hand and held it, in spite of her struggle to free herself.
‘Listen, Ruth Adrian,’ he exclaimed with well-assumed earnestness. ‘Once before, when my fate trembled in the balance, you cast me off. You might have been my salvation ten years ago. Now listen to me. Once again I am in the old country, free, independent, and ambitious. On you, and you alone, depends my future. Cast me off now, and I shall have no hope, no anchor. I am in your hands to make or mar. Think well of it, Ruth Adrian, and give me your answer when we meet again. Till then, God bless you!’
He stooped down and pressed his lips to hers almost fiercely. She tore herself free, and her bosom heaving with indignation, her cheeks crimson with shame, she rushed from the room and from the house.
When the door was closed behind her, Marston’s manner altered instantly. A smile passed across his face—a smile of extreme self-congratulation.
‘I think I shall win her over yet,’ he said softly. ‘Poor Ruth! There are a few sparks of the old love left, even in my cold heart. I want a wife, too, and she must be a lady. A bachelor can’t get the right set of people round him. Poor Ruth! how capitally she wears.’
He paced the room for a minute or two, and then he looked at his watch.
‘I must go and warn Heckett,’ he said, ‘that there’s a traitor in the camp somewhere. That girl has heard him say something, and has told Ruth. That link must be broken, at any rate.’
Marston did not attach any serious importance to what Ruth had told him. He gave a shrewd guess at the source of her information and what it was worth.