He was a tall man—that was the only thing Mollie could make out of the disguise.
"Miss Dane does not spare me; but it is all in vain. She may gaze until her lovely eyes drop from their sockets, and she will not recognize me. And now I will leave you. I will intrude upon you as little as is absolutely possible. If you need anything, ring the bell. Good-night, my beautiful Mollie, and happy dreams."
He bowed politely and moved toward the door. Mollie made a step toward him, with upraised arm:
"Stay!"
The man halted at once.
"How long am I to be imprisoned here?"
"My fair one, I told you before: until you consent to become my wife."
"Are you mad?" exclaimed Mollie, scornfully; "or do you think I am? Your wife! I am here in your power—kill me, if you dare, you cowardly abductor! I will die ten thousand deaths—I'll live on here until my head is hoary—I'll dash my brains out against yonder wall, but I'll never, never, never become your wife!"
The man shrugged his shoulders.
"Strong language, my dear; but words, words, words! I won't kill you, and you won't live here until your head is hoary. Golden locks like yours are a long time turning gray. And you won't dash your brains out against the walls, because the walls are padded. Is there anything else you wish to say, Miss Dane?"