"Cara mia," he said, taking both her hands and trying to draw her close to him, "I care not how it is if you shall say you love me. Do not hide the truth from yourself. Your father is in great danger. You can save him from the penalties of wrong. Will you refuse to do so because I love you—love you as I have never believed a man could love; love you as my father loved your mother so many years ago—with the love of a race that has fought for women and died for them; a race which is deaf when a women says no, which follows her, cara mia, to the end of the earth and has eyes for nothing else but the house which shelters her? Will you do this when your heart can command me as you will—saying, speak or be silent, forget or remember? I know you better; you love me, Evelyn; you are afraid to tell me, but you love me. That is why I remain a prisoner of this house—because you love me, and I shall make you my wife. Ah, cara mia, say it but once—I love you, Georges, the son of my father's friend—I love you and will not forbid your words."
A strange thrill ran through Evelyn's veins as she listened to this passionate declaration. The frenzied words of love did not deceive her. This man, she thought, would so speak to many a woman in the years to come. A better wit would have concealed his purpose and rendered him less frank. "He would sell his father's liberty at my bidding," she said, and the thought set her struggling in his arms, flushed with anger and with shame.
"I will not hear you, Count," she cried again and again. "I cannot love you—you are not of my people. If my father has done wrong, he shall repay. He is not so helpless that he cannot save me from this. Oh, please let me go; your hands hurt me. I can never be your wife, never, never!"
"Oh please let me go; your hands hurt me. I can never be your wife, never, never!"
He released her reluctantly, for his quick ear had caught the sound of a horse galloping upon the open grass beyond the thicket.
"You will answer me differently another day," he said smilingly; "meanwhile, cara mia, there are two secrets to keep—yours and mine. If the charming Lady Evelyn will not hear me, I must remember Etta Romney, a young lady of my acquaintance—ah, you know her too; and that is well for her. Let us return to the house. My lord will have much to say to me and I to him."
They went up to the Hall together in silence. Evelyn knew how much she was in his power and how idle her veiled threats had been.
She could save her father from this man—truly. But at what a price!