"But why?" Wilfred asked hoarsely. "Roger is dead, and even if he were not you could never wed him when you know that his heart is full of murder. You know that he sought my life, and but for a fortunate——"
"I do not know it," she said passionately, "neither do I know that he is dead."
"What!" he exclaimed, savagely, "you believe that I——"
"I know that you have deceived me about him in the past," she said. "I know that you drove him from home. I know that you have tried to make me believe that he sought to murder you, but let me tell you this, Wilfred: If I believed he were dead, which I do not, and if he has been all you say he has, then, knowing you as I do, I cannot, will not, be what you ask. Now, I will go home. Stand aside, please?"
"You refuse, then?"
"Certainly, Wilfred. And now that I have yielded to your wish for this unseemly interview, I wish it to be the end of all such scenes."
"Ay, and it shall be, for I have a few words to say." His tone changed, and he spoke with haughty insolence. "We are in a lonely place," he said, "half a mile from a house. No one will molest us here, and you are in my power. I have begged you to grant my request, now you will have to yield to one of two alternatives. The first is this: The town of —— is ten miles from here. You will ride there with me this very night, quietly, and remain there until arrangements are made for our marriage."
"What!" she exclaimed, "you seek to force me? You dare not do such a thing."
"I dare do anything," he said, "for I am a desperate man. Will you accede to this?"
"Never. I will die first."