"And that condition is——"
There was a pause, during which Olive could have counted the raindrops on the window or the loud beating of her heart.
Paul Wyndham's large, clear, bright gray eyes steadily met her own.
"The condition is, that you become my wife."
She gave a cry, she was so utterly astonished, and sat staring at him, speechless.
"Your—wife!" she slowly said, when her returned senses enabled her to speak.
"Yes, Miss Henderson, my wife! I am no more insensible to the power of wealth than you are. You have risked everything for the future; you can only hold it now, on condition of becoming my wife!"
Olive Henderson rose up, white and defiant, "I never will!" she said, "I never will! I will lose every shilling of it, I will die before I consent!"
"Oh, no!" Mr. Wyndham said, quietly, "I do not think you will, when you come to reflect, it is not pleasant to die when one is young and handsome and prosperous, particularly if one has not been very good, and not at all sure of going to Heaven. You will not die, Miss Henderson; you will keep the fortune and marry me."
"I never will!" she vehemently cried; "what if I told you my stepsister, the real Olive Henderson, were alive, that I have seen her lately, and that she has made over everything to me. What if I told you this?"