“Yes, I knew it,” she answered, and her voice grew tremulous also, while a look of horror dawned in her eyes.
“You knew it!” he cried in wonder. “Then how have you had the courage to remain here alone?”
“You do well to ask that question,” the poor girl cried out, bitterly. “You, Otho Maury, who have almost hounded me to death. Stay! do not advance one step nearer, or——”
He drew back sullenly, and remained on the threshold facing her with his back to the dark corridor, while he said, pleadingly:
“Floy, I followed you here with an honorable object. I love you madly. Will you become my wife?”
“Never!” she answered, curtly, with measureless contempt that angered him to frenzy.
“Take care how you scorn me, pretty Floy, for you are in my power, and I may take a terrible revenge for your contempt,” he exclaimed, advancing toward her, secure in his ability to disarm the weak, puny girl.
“Heaven help me!” silently prayed the poor girl, bracing herself to drive home her weapon of defense into her assailant’s breast as soon as he came within reach.
“If you come within reach, you are rushing on your death!” she cried, wildly.
“Ha! ha!” he laughed, as at some pretty child, and made a rush sidewise, aiming to wrench away the weapon, and, in spite of her alertness, he grasped the middle of the arm that held the dagger.