“Yes,” she broke in, “and because I would not listen, because you do not please me, and you could not win me as a man wins a maid, you—you laid a trap and kidnapped me, thinking to get by brute force that which my heart withheld. Oh! in all the Netherlands lives there another such an abject as Adrian called van Goorl, the base-born son of Ramiro the galley slave?”
“I have told you that it is false,” he replied furiously. “I had nothing to do with your capture. I knew nothing of it till I saw you here.”
Elsa laughed a very bitter laugh. “Spare your breath,” she said, “for if you swore it before the face of the recording Angel I would not believe you. Remember that you are the man who betrayed your brother and your benefactor, and then guess, if you can, what worth I put upon your words.”
In the bitterness of his heart Adrian groaned aloud, and from that groan Elsa, listening eagerly, gathered some kind of hope.
“Surely,” she went on, with a changed and softened manner, “surely you will not do this wickedness. The blood of Dirk van Goorl lies on your head; will you add mine to his? For be sure of this, I swear it by my Maker, that before I am indeed a wife to you I shall be dead—or mayhap you will be dead, or both of us. Do you understand?”
“I understand, but——”
“But what? Where is the use of this wickedness? For your soul’s sake, refuse to have aught to do with such a sin.”
“But if so, my father will marry you.”
It was a chance arrow, but it went home, for of a sudden Elsa’s strength and eloquence seemed to leave her. She ran to him with her hands clasped, she flung herself upon her knees.
“Oh! help me to escape,” she moaned, “and I will bless you all my life.”