“I will do any thing to get rid of your odious presence. I will lay your proposition before Clara, and then she can do as she sees fit. But were it me, I’d see you burning before I would submit to wed you.”
The renegade laughed long and loudly, then said:
“Remember, Miss Taft,”—laying a marked emphasis upon the “Miss”—“as I told you last night, as soon as Clara is my wife, and I have Father Jules’ certificate of our marriage in my pocket, she shall be set at liberty. As her husband, I will press no further claims upon her. All I want is something to show my right to—well, you know what—the Golden Horn estate.”
Madge arose to leave the lodge.
“I will go at once and see Clara,” she said.
“Then I will wait your return,” said Sherwood.
Madge went out into the little tent where Clara Bryant was a prisoner. She found the maiden weeping, with face pale and sorrowful.
“Oh, Clara!” cried Madge, “I have come to you with what I hope will be good news.”
Clara looked quickly up, a light of hope in her tearful eyes.
“Has he decided to set us free—to allow us to return home?” she asked.