"Oh! indeed it is sufficient," she moaned, wringing her hands in anguish. "I implore you to let me go."
"Let me be the judge," he answered again. "Tell me your reasons for this wild step."
She was silent from sheer despair.
"Bonnibel, will you tell me the secret?" he urged, feverishly.
"I cannot. I cannot! Do not ask me!" she answered pleadingly.
"What if I demand it from Mr. Dane?" he said, threateningly.
"I do not believe he will tell you," she answered bitterly. "If he did you would regret that you learned it. Oh! believe me, Colonel Carlyle, that 'ignorance is bliss' to you in this case. Oh! be merciful and let me go!"
"Would you know what answer your artist lover sent to your wild appeal?" he exclaimed abruptly.
She looked at him wildly. He straightened out the sheet and read over the words that Leslie Dane had written, in a bitter, mocking tone.
"Leslie Dane," he repeated. "Leslie Dane! Why, this is the first time I have caught the villain's name aright! It seems familiar. I have heard it somewhere long ago—let me think."