“I must, if you will not go.”
“I will not go.”
“You shall—you must—you cannot help it! Do not resist.”
“Shame, William, shame! Is this your love?”
“It is, Margaret, it is. I mean you fair.”
“Your means are foul. Let me go, William! let me go!”
“Yes: you shall go on board my boat.”
“Not with my life, William. I will go overboard!”
“Then will I follow you; but I cannot parley longer. Come on!”
The poor girl’s struggles now became so violent, and her efforts to escape so powerful, that Will Laud’s utmost strength could not drag her along the sand. Her fears, too, were increasing with his cruel violence; and these fears were greatly increased by Laud giving a loud, shrill boatswain’s whistle. This awakened her to the sight of the trap into which she had been beguiled, for, in another moment, she saw a man spring from the boat, and hasten towards her. He came along with rapid strides to join them, and soon, with horrid voice, exclaimed,—