“Well, I do not care; he will drop you as he would a scorpion, when he learns the truth concerning you, and the disgraceful secret for which Harold Arleigh is responsible.”
Violet made no reply; she stood like one stunned, as gradually the truth, the bitter truth, crept into her heart. She was in the power of this villain. How, in Heaven’s name, could she escape? There must be some way of escape, some road out of the dilemma, but she knew not which way to turn. Gilbert Warrington seemed to read her very thoughts.
“Every man has his price, I have been told,” he observed, sententiously. “I have mine. Are you willing to pay a price for keeping your unpleasant secret, Miss Arleigh? Tell me, are you?”
She caught her breath with a suppressed cry.
“What is your price?” she asked, coldly.
Yet no hint of what was coming had as yet intruded upon her heart. She believed that he would ask a share of the Arleigh fortune, perhaps. Well, better that than to be haunted by this bad secret, this ghost of the past; and to escape from the clutches of this man Warrington she would sacrifice all that she possessed in the world.
He smiled.
“My price? Oh, yes! Well, Miss Violet Arleigh, it is this.” His eyes transfixed hers with their steady gaze, and his thin lips set themselves into a straight, narrow line. “I know all about this secret, the Arleigh secret,” he went on, slowly. “I am the only person living, now that your mother is gone, who does know it. It is a secret which would ruin you forever if it became known, or even suspected. But I will promise, will swear, will bind myself in any way you like, to keep it a dead secret forever, upon one condition. It is this, that you consent to be my wife. Once my wife, our interests will be identical, and I will shield you from all the world, from all harm. I will hide this secret, and no one will ever suspect its existence. I will place in your hands the proof, so that you may destroy it. You shall live a life of ease and luxury. Only consent to be my wife. Will you, Violet?”
