He too had risen, and tried to take her hand. She stepped back. He pressed toward her.
“Grace; dear Grace!”
“Stop, Sir, stop!” said his companion, drawing herself up and waving him back; “I can not hear you talk so. I am engaged.”
Abel turned pale. Grace Plumer was frightened. He sprang forward and seized her hand.
“Oh! Grace, hear me but one word! You knew that I loved you, and you allowed me to come. In honor, in truth, before God, you are mine!”
She struggled to release her hand. As she looked in his face she saw there an expression which assured her that he was capable of saying any thing, of doing any thing; and she trembled to think how much she might be—how much any woman is—in the power of a desperate man.
“Indeed, Mr. Newt, you must let me go!”
“Grace, Grace, say that you love me!”
The frightened girl broke away from him, and ran toward the door. Abel followed her, but the door opened, and Sligo Moultrie entered.
“Oh, Sligo!” cried Grace, as he put his arm around her.