“What is the meaning, sir, of this outrage?—how is it that I find myself alone with you and this Indian servant, torn from my home, and borne with frightful rapidity in an unknown direction?”
Colonel Mires turned his inflamed eyes upon her and, in a tone of passionate tenderness, replied—
“Ask your more than mortal beauty and your in difference to my almost more than mortal love for you. Oh! Flora, I cannot see you, cannot know you to be another’s; my adoration for you is without limit; and if I have resorted to a bold step, it is only because my passion for you would pause at nothing to ensure my happiness.”
“You have resorted to a mean and wicked artifice to place me in your power, Colonel Mires!” she exclaimed, awaiting his answer with an intensity of eagerness which it was somewhat remarkable he did not notice.
“All stratagems, it is said, are fair in love-matters,” he replied. “If I adopted one which has occasioned you pain, I regret its action, though I rejoice at its result, for it gave me you. Understand me, sweet Flora, you must be mine—it will be impossible for you to escape that issue; but I shall treat you with the greatest possible respect until we are united. Your dignity shall not be insulted, nor your modesty offended, by act, by word, or look. Every desire or wish you may form, save that of severing yourself from me, shall be gratified. I will be your slave, ministering to your will in all things, except in aught that would take you from me. You will find me scrupulously adhere to this promise in every respect. At the same time, let me inform you that any attempt to release yourself will be futile. My arrangements have been so made that all entreaties and appeals for assistance will be in vain. We are now on our way to Southampton, from thence, by packet, direct to Madeira. Only at appointed places shall we stay; and at each place the persons there are prepared to see with me a young lady of surpassing beauty, but a confirmed lunatic—insane upon the fancy that she is being forcibly abducted from home. I deem it advisable to make you thus much acquainted with my plan to spare you the agony of useless displays. At Funchal, I hope to induce you to become my wife—at least, I will ensure that you shall never be the bride of another.”
He ceased. Flora made no reply. The note which informed her of the sudden death of Mr. Vivian, professing to be written by Mrs. Harper, was a forgery, acknowledged to be such by the Colonel. She cared little for the rest; she had faith in being rescued, or in effecting an escape from the clutches of the scoundrel who had made her prisoner and was bearing her away. She could not conceive how one or the other could be accomplished, but she had no doubt that she would be set free before she was forced on board the ship of which he had spoken. Hal was not dead; she could bear all the rest with comparative equanimity.
As we have said, she did not reply to Mires nor afterwards speak a word in answer to any remark he made or question he put to her. She declined all refreshment, though he pressed her earnestly at the end of the third stage to partake of it, and resisted every inducement to utter a word.
They were well away on the fourth stage, still pursuing unfrequented bye-roads, when the Indian coachman suddenly put his head down to the window, and called, “Sahib!”
His tone was so urgent and startling that Colonel Mires leaped from the recumbent position in which he placed himself for the last hour, watching with an unswerving, ardent gaze the beautiful but saddened face of Flora. He bent his head towards his man, and with a brusque tone demanded what had occurred.
“We are pursued, sahib,” replied the Indian, very decisively.