“Is the man mad, or does he think me an ignorant child with no knowledge of the world and its ways? Listen, Otho Maury: you can not remain here through the night with me, for what would people say to-morrow?”
She seemed to grow taller with each word so bravely spoken, as she stood before him like an imperious little queen, her finger still pointing to the door.
But the man made no motion to obey, and his manner was full of a jaunty insouciance that filled her with indefinable dismay.
“Nonsense!” he answered, airily; and his voice sunk to a tender cadence as he continued: “Darling little Floy, no one need know of my being here to-night. No one knew of my coming, and I can slip away just before daylight, don’t you see? Then when the committee comes you will be found alone bright and happy, and they will believe your proud boast that you were not the least afraid to stay alone in Suicide Place.”
“I command you to go at once!” she said, angrily.
“I refuse to obey,” he returned, jauntily; and there was a streaming fire of elation in his eyes that almost drove her wild.
“Then I shall go and leave you here!” she said, scornfully, turning to the door; but he barred her way. “I can spring from the window!” she cried, moving to it, and not noticing the rustling of the lilac branches.
“And kill yourself,” he sneered. “No, Floy, you will not be so rash. You will stay here with me, for I love you madly, beautiful one! and I came here to be alone with you where none could interfere, that I might clasp your lovely form to my heart and kiss your scornful lips till they yielded to my caresses, till your heart thrilled to mine with responsive love!”
“Why, I hate you! hate you! hate you! you cowardly villain, you infamous cur!” raged Floy, tempestuously, as she tried to rush past him and gain the door.
But Otho was too quick for her, agile as she was. Rushing forward, he caught her in his arms, pressing her tightly to his breast, heedless of her wild shrieks of fear and prayers for mercy.