“You need spare yourself the trouble,” intervened Violet, coldly. “I shall never marry you, rest assured of that. You must be mad if you imagine that you can intimidate me in such a way. But I am willing to make a deed of gift to you of all my fortune, save a sufficient sum to support me, the deed to come into effect when I am twenty-one—three years from now. Will that be satisfactory, you miserable blackmailer?”
He smiled at her ignorance. But he must not let her suspect his plan; he must get her to go to New Orleans, and that very night, if possible. He can see his way to success.
“Very well,” he returned, quietly, “I will consent. All I want is the money.”
But low under his breath he muttered savagely:
“But I will not wait three years to take possession of it. She is in my power completely now.”
“Will you go with me to-night, Violet?” he asked, aloud, in a pleading tone. “I must have this business settled immediately, for as soon as I am in possession of your deed, I can realize enough on it for present use, and will leave the country at once.”
Her face brightened at the prospect.
“Yes, I will go to-night—as well now as later; and if I return to Yorke Towers and let everybody know I am going, there will be sure to be some objection made, and probably Aunt Constance would put an end to the whole thing. But first I must write a line to Leonard—Mr. Yorke—and let him know that I am going away in this strange and abrupt fashion, but will return to-morrow.”
Down in her heart she was saying to herself:
“I will humor this wicked man and obey him outwardly; but once in the town, I will try and seek some one’s protection and escape him. I will write to Leonard, so that if I fail in making my escape from Gilbert Warrington, he will be able to save me.”