"Yes or no, plain," growled McGinnis. "Come now, speak up right sharp and don't waste any time in palavering. Yes or no? And remember, it's your last chance. Say 'yes,' and yer gits McGinnis for a husband, McGinnis as is known to be one of the sharpest and best men on a 'lay' in the country. Say 'no,' and you're done for. Into the mad-house you'll go, never to come out until you're carried out, feet first."
She could never marry him, after he had imbrued his hands in the blood of the woman he now called his wife. She could never have married him anyhow. Better the mad-house, better death itself, than that.
There was nothing gained by attempting to fool him. Suppose she did say 'yes,' and by means of it staved off incarceration in the mad-house for several days, what would it amount to in the end? Nothing. Had there been any reason for her to expect a rescue, she might have tried on the game. But she knew of no efforts being made to find her.
Then a shudder convulsed her frame.
"Yes," she could not say, now that a new thought came to her, even though she knew it would lead to her rescue before such time as McGinnis claimed the fulfillment of her pledge.
The little word "yes" would be the death-warrant of a living human being—no matter how fallen and wicked, a human being all the same.
To say "yes" would seal the fate of the woman McGinnis now called his wife.
Poor Helen!
She bent her head and hid her face in her hands, and wept bitterly as the closed carriage rolled swiftly onward.
A strange fancy, a love for Helen had taken root in the evil heart of McGinnis.