‘Yes, just so,’ was the languid reply.
‘And I am here, brutally to disturb and deny that wish of yours. I am here to give you something to think about, and to tell you of something I want you to do.’
‘And what is that?’
‘When I say I want you to do it, that is a poor, inadequate word. I pray and implore you to keep your promise to me, and as soon as may be–to-morrow, or the day after–to become my wife. I have arranged all the preliminaries. In consequence of your serious illness, the usual notice has been dispensed with. I have nothing to do but intimate to the Bürgermeister the day and the hour for the ceremony, and he, or his representative, will come here to perform it.’
‘But–but–surely you have reconsidered it?’ she said, flushing painfully.
‘I have considered it again and again, with the same result always. Mr. Wellfield’s marriage is in the Times this morning, to Miss Bolton of Wellfield Abbey.’
Sara winced, and he went on:
‘The Wilhelmis know. The Professor and the Frau Professorin have promised to act as witnesses.’
‘You have told them?’ she ejaculated.
‘Yes–because I know that you are not a person to go back from your word,’ he answered steadily, and he knew that he had conquered–whether because she was weak and feeble, and he strong and determined, or from what cause soever–he knew the game was his when she said, slowly: