She walked deliberately to the hall, opened the door, and stepped in. Elijah was there, crouched over the empty hearth, as though there was a fire on it. He looked up.
'Well, Glory?'
Her bosom heaved. She could not speak.
'You have something to say,' he proceeded. 'Won't the words come out? Do they stick?' His wild dark eye was on her.
'Elijah,' she said, with burning brow and cheek, 'I give up. I will marry you.'
He gave a great shout and sprang up.
'Listen patiently to me,' she said, with difficulty controlling her agitation. 'I will marry you, and take your name, but only to save mine. That is all. I will neither love you, nor live with you, save as I do now. These are my terms. If you will take them, so be it. If not, we shall go on as before.'
He laughed loudly, savagely.
'I told you, Glory, my own, own Glory, what must be. You would not come under my roof, but you came. You would not marry me—now you submit. You will not love me—you must and shall. Nothing can keep us apart. The poles are drawing together. Perhaps there may be a heaven for us both here. But I do not know. Anyhow the sum is nearer the end than it was. Glory, this day week you shall be my wife.
CHAPTER XXIII.