"No, no; you have already brought ice for my heart, aunty—that is enough."
"You talk wildly, love; I am afraid your mind is disordered."
"Don't mind my talk, dear aunty, I always was a crazy, elfish changeling, without a heart, you know. Nobody minds what I say. Only leave me now; I will be better by and by."
With a sigh Mrs. Gower left the room. It was strange that, loving her poor little fay as she did, she should urge her to this wretched marriage; but the squire had talked and persuaded her until he brought her to see the matter with his eyes. And poor Gipsy was left alone to pace up and down the room like one deranged, wringing her hands, while her cheeks and eyes burned with the fire of fever.
"Oh, if Archie would only come!" was the wild cry of her aching heart, as she walked restlessly to and fro.
But Archie was away; she knew not even his present address, and she was left to battle against the dark decree of fate alone.
"I will seek Dr. Wiseman; I will beg, I will implore him to spare me, and those who would have me make this fatal sacrifice. Surely his heart is not made of stone; he cannot resist my prayers!"
So, waiting in her room until she saw him ride up to the Hall, she descended the stairs and entered the parlor, where he and the squire sat in close conversation together, and formally desired the honor of a private interview.
He arose, and, bowing, followed her into the drawing-room. Motioning him to a seat she stood before him, her little form drawn up to its full height, her defiant, dark eyes fixed on his repulsive face with undisguised loathing.
"Dr. Wiseman," she began, "I have heard of this proposal which you have honored me by making. Believe me, I fully appreciate the honor you have done me"—and her beautiful lip curled scornfully—"even while I must decline it. A silly little girl like me is unworthy to be raised to the dignity of the wife of so distinguished a gentleman as Dr. Wiseman!"