"And how, then, would I treat you?" he inquired slowly.
"You would—you would take me to my own people and give me back my independence, my dignity. Then there would be honor in your—your courtship. I——"
"Would you come back to me?"
"I——"
The lie choked her. And the passion of anger which had flared in her that afternoon sprang up in flame again; the candlelight showed the hot blood in her cheeks. "I shall not come to you if you keep me here!" she gave back fearlessly.
"But here I can come to you. And the preliminaries are always stupid—I have no desire to reënact them. I am well content with where we have arrived. Be content, also."
She stared back at his smiling face. And all she thought was, "Shall I defy him now, or try to hold him off a little longer?" She had ceased to feel afraid; her blood was on fire; it was battle now between them; perhaps a battle of the wits a little longer, then——
"In America men do not make love by force," she flung at him. "You are mad, Captain Kerissen! You will be sorry if you go on like this. If you wish to marry me you must give me the freedom of choice. You must give me time. I must have a minister of my own faith. Do you think I will submit to this? You make me hate you!"
"Hate is often love with a mask," he laughed, his eyes fixed on the spirited, flushed face, the flashing eyes, the defiant mouth. "And do not quote your America to me. You are done with America."
"You say that? You forget who I am! My brother—I tell you my brother will——"