“How strangely you talk, Richard,” said I. “You forget it is so late. We cannot go to church at this hour.”
“Ah, dearest, this is church! See, I have brought you this ring. We will stand up before God and our own hearts, and I will marry you here. We need no other witnesses than ourselves and this ring!”
Though my youthful heart was blinded by love and passion, I was not prepared for this. Excitement and the strangeness of the proposition overcame me, and I broke forth into sobs.
He endeavored to soothe me, urging his request with a pleading force which I could scarcely withstand.
“I am not prepared, Richard,” said I, drying my tears; “this is so sudden, so unlooked for, I must have time for thought.”
But thought only revealed a gaping abyss, from which I must fly.
He continued to urge his plea; but seeing I would not yield, his countenance changed. The sweet, seductive smile vanished. He grew white as the moonbeam, and, clenching his hand and setting his teeth, bent over me, whispering huskily:
“Agnes, I shall not step from this room to-night. I have the key. You have promised to be mine. You shall keep that promise. To-night you shall keep that promise!”
If he was pale, I became paler. A cold chill crept over me. But I took my resolution, unyielding as death, not to grant his request.
A chasm seemed to yawn before me. The loneliness and friendlessness of my position were presented to my mind with terrific reality. A deadly swoon-like feeling ensued. To yield in this might seal my fate. I paced the floor rapidly, praying for help.