"Still, I should be sorry to add to your danger," she said, hesitatingly; "and if—if—"
"Well," said the priest, sharply, "if what?"
"If I am a source of danger," said the lady, calmly, "I should prefer going on alone, just as I was; and I shall only ask you to tell me what is the nearest town, and to give me generally the direction to it."
"Oh, you will, will you?" said the priest, in the mocking tone which he had previously used. "Well, then, madame, I shall only ask you to do as I say, and ask no questions. I know the country—you don't. I have registered a vow in heaven to save you, and save you I will, even in spite of all your teeth. I swear it in the name of the great Jehovah and the Continental Congress!"
At these strange words the lady was silent for a few moments, and then said, in a tremulous voice,
"I'll do anything that you wish me to do."
"Furthermore, my hearer," continued the priest, suddenly assuming and immediately dropping the whine of a rustic preacher, "mark this—I don't mind saying a few words to ease your scruples: you cannot make my position any more dangerous than it is already. I carry my life in my hand all the time."
"Still," said the lady, "you can easily take care of yourself; but what a terrible thing it would be if you should get into trouble on my account!"
"Well, I'll ask only one question—what is your calling in life?"
"I have no calling. I'm a lady—"