"It does not," returned she, firmly. "However miserable I may sometimes be, I could never wish to give up a moment of my life with you, my own husband, or to leave you and our child to the influence of this—this being."
She stretched out her arms to him.
"Please hold me, Ian, and will as I do, that I may resist this horrible invasion. I have a feeling that you can help me."
He hesitated. "I, darling? But I don't believe—"
She approached him, and took hold of him urgently, looking him in the eyes.
"Won't you do it, husband dear? Please, for my sake, even if you don't believe, promise you'll will to keep me here. Will it, with all your might!"
What madness it was, this fantastic scene upon the well-kept lawn, under the square windows of the sober, opulent North Country house! And the maddest part of it all was the horrible reluctance he felt to comply with his wife's wish. He seemed to himself to pause noticeably before answering her with a meaningless half-laugh:
"Of course I'll promise anything you like, dear."
He put his arms around her and rested his face upon her golden head.
"Will!" she whispered, and the voice was one of command rather than of appeal. "Will! You have promised."