"Elegant simplicity," observed the man, leading her in; "but we will do our best to make you comfortable during your stay. It need not be long—you know it depends on yourself, Mollie."
"On myself?"
She turned her pale face and angry, eyes upon him.
"I am your husband by a secret marriage, you know. Let that marriage be solemnized over again in public—no one need know of the other: consent to be my wife openly and above-board, and your prison doors will fly open that hour."
"In Heaven's name, who are you?" cried Mollie, impatiently. "End this ridiculous farce—remove that disguise—let me see who I am speaking to. This melodramatic absurdity has gone on long enough—the play is played out. Talk to me, face to face, like a man, if you dare!"
Her eyes blazed, her voice rose. The old woman looked from one to the other, "far wide" but in evident curiosity. The man had persisted in speaking to her in French, and Mollie had answered him in that language.
"Be it as you say!" cried her captor, suddenly; "only remember, Mollie, whether I am the person you prefer to see under this disguise or not, I am nevertheless your husband as fast as the Reverend Raymond Rashleigh can tie the knot. You shall know who I am, since it is only a question of to-night or to-morrow at the most. Sally, you can go."
Sally looked from one to the other with sharp, suspicious old eyes.
"Won't the young lady want me, sir? Is she able to 'tend to herself?"
"Quite able, Sally; she's not so bad as you think. Go away, like a good soul. I have a soothing draught to administer to my patient."