“Then you advise me to marry him?”
“It is our only hope, Clara.”
“Then I must consent.”
“Then I will see him and tell him. If you agreed to his propositions, he said he would have the wedding take place to-morrow.”
Madge left the tent and returned to her own, where Sherwood was awaiting her.
“Well,” said the renegade, as she entered.
“It is all right,” returned Madge, and the shadow of a wicked smile hovered around her mouth.
Sherwood laughed one of his cold, devilish laughs.
Then he clapped his hands and cried:
“Vengeance! vengeance! my sweet Cecil, and a long life at the Golden Horn!”