"Oh, Heaven! I would sooner have died than heard this hideous truth!" she moaned, and the fair golden head sank until it rested on Hetty's coarse pillow, while the white lids drooped heavily over the violet eyes.
Lindsey Warwick sprang eagerly forward, but Hetty motioned him sternly back.
"You sha'n't touch her, you fiend, unless by her own consent, and I know you'll never get that! So go out and leave her to herself."
He laughed arrogantly in his consciousness of power and answered:
"Very well, I'll leave her alone a few moments to get used to her position; but no plotting for her escape, remember, for there are bolts and bars on every door and window; and none of the neighbors could hear her scream, if she tried it all day. You know that by your own experience. So you had just as well do me a good turn by persuading her to marry me without more trouble. You didn't find it hard to love me, so why should she?"
The look of scornful reproach she gave him might have shamed a fiend, but he only laughed and went out, shutting the door behind him.
"Miss Precious, look up, darling—he's gone now; look up, and don't grieve. Maybe something will happen, maybe Miss Ethel will repent and send your father to take you from Lindsey Warwick. Oh, I wish I had a good revolver; I'd shoot him like a dog, and let you go free! My life's going out fast, anyway, and I'd not mind paying off my score against him!"
Precious lifted up a pale, haggard face, murmuring:
"Oh, no, no, Hetty; you must not die with the sin of murder on your soul. Listen, while I whisper in your ear: I have a splendid little revolver in my pocket. Papa gave it to me after—that night last summer, you know. He taught me to use it, and told me to always carry it when I went out alone, and to defend myself with it, if necessary. So don't worry over me, Hetty; I will kill him if there is no other way of escape!"
But she shuddered, and grew so pale that Hetty muttered: