Her head dropped down again with a sort of sob, and the pitiful pleading was touching to hear from those proud lips. If Paul Wyndham had possessed the hardest heart that ever beat in a man's breast since the days of Nero, I think it must have been touched by the sight of that haughty spirit so bowed and crushed before him. His face showed no sign of whatever he might feel, but his clear voice shook a little as he replied.
"It is of little use, Miss Henderson, for me to say how deeply I do pity you—how sorely against my will I wage this unequal warfare, since the battle must go on all the same. It would only sound like mockery were I to say how grieved I am to give you this pain, since I should still remain inexorable."
"Will nothing bribe you?" she asked. "Half the wealth I possess shall be yours if——"
She had lifted her face again in eager hopefulness, but he interrupted with a gesture.
"I said I was inexorable, Miss Henderson, and I must repeat it. Besides," he added, with a slight smile, that showed how credulous he was about the story, "the real heiress, though she might make over the fortune to you, might object to your handing the half of it over to a stranger. No, Miss Henderson, there is only the one alternative—be my wife, or else——"
"Or else you will tell all?"
He did not speak. He stood, quietly waiting his answer—quiet, but very inflexible.
Olive rose up and stood before him.
"Must you have your answer now?" she asked, "or will you not even give me a few hours respite to think it over?"
"As many as you please, Miss Henderson."