"No, Jonas, to be rid of him."
Bideabout chuckled, with a sarcastic sneer in the side of his face.
"Come now," said he; "I should dearly like to witness this meeting. If true to me, as you pretend, then obey me, summon him here, and let me be present, unobserved, when you meet. If your wish be, as you say, to be rid of him, I will help you to its fulfilment."
"Jonas!"
"I will it. So alone can you convince me."
She hesitated. She had not the power to gather her thoughts together, to judge what she should do, what under the circumstances would be best to be done.
"Come now," repeated Jonas. "If you are true and honest, as you say, call him."
She put her trembling hand to her head, wiped the drops from her brow, the tears from her eyes, the dew from her quivering lips.
Her brain was reeling, her power of will was paralyzed.
"Come, now," said Jonas once more, "answer him—here am I."