“We shall never be married,” said the girl, self-possessed, now, and calm enough to be fairly judicial. “If you wish to win my respect, go and marry Hester Hodder, and let your child not be buried in shame.”
The man winced, but not visibly. He took his lip in his fingers again and pinched it till it was white. He realized that in her present frame of mind, Garde was utterly incorrigible. He only made matters worse by remaining where she was. He knew of a trick worth two of prolonging this interview. Yet he must retire in good order.
“I must tell you once more,” he said, “that I know nothing about this person of whom you speak. I regret that something has prejudiced your mind against me, especially when you insist upon doing me this wrong. Let me say good night, for I am sure I shall find you in an altered mood to-morrow.”
“Good night,” said Garde, icily.
The man smiled and went out, closing the door as if it had been the bars of a cage, which he had dared to enter, at the risk of frightening his prey to death.
He went out into the garden and called to David Donner.
CHAPTER XXII.
DAVID’S COERCION.
David Donner came in from that interview in the garden an angered fanatic. The bitter cold of the night had entered into his soul, with all the heaped-up threats which Randolph had hurled at his head.
These threats had not been fired at David loudly nor fiercely. Randolph had told him of Garde’s insubordination, of her charges and of her repudiation of her promise. He had shown that whether her allegations as to Hester Hodder were true or false, they had nothing to do with Massachusetts politics. He had then opened up with his main battery—a recital of the power he had steadily accumulated, during the past year, and of his intention to use it, immediately, if Donner and Garde now failed in the slightest particular to keep their share of the bargain.