“Have—mercy!” she falters, brokenly. “Be human, Gilbert Warrington; show me some pity, some consideration. For the sake of the past, in memory of the dead and gone days when I took you by the hand and led you up to prosperity, have pity, have some gratitude——”
“Gratitude? Bah! Talk of something tangible, something that exists, something that I can understand. Gratitude? Ha! ha! You make me tired. No, no, my friend; we will confine ourselves to facts and drop all that high-flown rhapsody.”
She lifted her white face for a moment, and her eyes rested upon his with a look of imploring entreaty.
“Is there no alternative?” she gasped.
“None. You must marry me, you must become my wife at once, or the whole world shall ring with the truth—that you were only Hubert Arleigh’s——”
“Stop! For the love of God, do not speak that word. It is false—false—false!”
“Prove it!”
“Alas! I can not, as you know too well. Gilbert Warrington, I offer you all I possess in the world—all my wealth—everything—if you will give me those papers in your possession and let me go free, let me take my child and go away from here, so far that none here will ever learn my whereabouts. Is that not enough to buy your silence?”
“No! a thousand times no! There is not money enough in all Louisiana to purchase my silence. Rosamond Arleigh, I love you, and I mean to make you my wife. I have loved you for years, I have held this secret suspended over your head for years, but now—now—you shall marry me, or the secret shall be made public, and you and yours ruined forever! You will be shunned as a pestilence, and Violet, think of what her fate will be!”
A low groan issued from the woman’s pallid lips, then all was still. The silence grew oppressive.