“My dear Neva,” she said caressingly, “I have just been down to the dining-room, and have discovered that we are to have broiled birds on toast, hot rolls and coffee, for breakfast, with the most delicious Scotch marmalade made of Seville oranges. It’s a bitter cold morning, just like January. I can feel the cold wind coming in through your windows. Think of going down to the breakfast that is prepared for us below. There is a cover laid for you. Come down with me, Neva, and after breakfast we will go down to the sloop and start on our return home. Is not the picture pleasant? Will you come?”
“I suppose there is a condition attached to partaking of this breakfast,” said Neva. “You have not relented?”
“Ah, I hoped you had relented,” said Octavia Black, smiling. “Are you sure I have not tempted you? You have only to speak one little word, Yes, and you shall share our breakfast, and we will start for home to-day.”
“You must have a high opinion of me,” said Neva bitterly. “I will not sell my birthright, madam, for a mess of pottage. I prefer bread and water to the end of my days, rather than to become a party in your vile schemes, or to marry a man I do not love.”
“Then I will send your breakfast up to you,” said Mrs. Black. “I had hoped that you would go down with us. But to-morrow morning may not find you so obstinate.”
She retired, and Celeste brought up a tray with bread and water. The French woman put the room in order and made up the fire anew, bringing in a huge back-log herself, which she dragged along upon a reversed chair. She went out without speaking.
The next day was like this one. Mrs. Black came in in the morning with her proposals, and retired discomfited. Then Celeste brought bread and water and put the room in order, and went out, to return at noon and evening with more bread and water.
Still Neva did not yield. Her imprisonment was telling on her strength, but her courage did not lessen. Her red-brown eyes glowed with courage and resolution from out a pale face, and her lips wore a smile of patience and cheerfulness which angered her enemies.
Upon the fourth morning Neva arose with a determination to make a bold attempt at escape. She could not render her condition worse in any event, and perhaps she might gain her freedom. While she was dressing she formed a plan, upon the success of which she felt that her fate depended.
“I begin to believe that Arthur will never find me here,” she thought. “I must help myself.”