"Never mind my illness. That will soon pass. And the density you complain of is not so one-sided as you imagine. I pointed out that the position had changed. Two days ago you were free to say 'Yes' or 'No' to my proposal. To-day you are not. You've got to marry me now, Meg. You'll be my wife by fair means or foul. Need I explain myself further?"
"It—it would be as well."
"All right. You've asked for it, and you'll get it. Unless I have your promise here and now that our marriage will take place as soon as I can stand on my feet again, I'll have your father arrested for murder."
"Percy, you must be mad even to think of such a dreadful thing!"
"No, not mad, but sane, very sane and wide-eyed. That fellow, Armathwaite, wants you, and he'll snap you up while I'm lying in this infernal house unless I strike now, and strike hard. I mean exactly what I say. I've thought it all out here, though I'm suffering pain enough to drive me crazy. But the mind can conquer the body, and my mind is not only clear, but fixed. Tell me you'll marry me, and I'll be patient as a saint. I'll take your word for it. I don't want you to sit by my side and hold my hand, as some sniveling fools would wish. You can plan your gardens with Armathwaite, and smile at him and talk with him as much as you please. But you've got to be my wife. Refuse, and the only way you can save your father from arrest is by getting Armathwaite to commit another murder."
"You brute!" she almost whispered. Her lips were quivering pitifully, but the fount of tears was dried, and her eyes blazed with an intensity that conquered Whittaker for the moment.
He lay back on the pillows again, with a smile that was twisted into a rictus of agony as a twinge wrung the injured limb.
"Call me any hard names you like," he muttered, closing his eyes under the intolerable contempt and loathing of Marguérite's steadfast scrutiny. "I've said what I had to say, and I'll not depart from a syllable of it. You'd have married me one of these days if you hadn't met Armathwaite. He has turned your pretty little head with his knight-errant airs and cavalry officer appearance. So I've determined to pull you back by force—see? You'll get over it in time. You and I will be as good chums as ever when this gale has blown itself out. Don't think I shall hold you less dear because your father placed himself in danger of the law. He escaped neatly before, and can escape again. I'll even tell you how. No one here knows—"
He opened his eyes again, to ascertain if some dawning interest in the project he was about to reveal—which was precisely that already set forth by Armathwaite—had driven the horror from her drawn features; but Marguérite had vanished. He listened for her footsteps, and could hear no sound. He shouted loudly, and tugged frenziedly at a bell. Betty came running, thinking he had fallen out of bed, and needed assistance.
"Why, whatever is the matter?" she cried, with true Yorkshire abruptness, when she found him lying as she had left him a few minutes earlier.