'To what?'
'To the question I asked you some time ago,' he rejoined, dwelling on her with sullen eyes. 'I asked you to be my wife. Your answer?'
'Prythee!' she said proudly, 'this is a strange way of wooing.'
'It is not of my choice that I woo in company,' he answered, shrugging his shoulders. 'My answer; that is all I want--and you.'
'Then you shall have the first, and not the last,' she exclaimed on a sudden impulse. 'No, no--a hundred times no! If you do not see that by pressing me now,' she continued impetuously, 'when I am alone, friendless, and unprotected, you insult me, you should see it, and I do.'
For a moment there was silence. Then he laughed; but his voice, notwithstanding his mastery over it and in spite of that laugh, shook with rage and resentment. 'As I expected,' he said. 'I knew last night that you hated me. You have been playing a part throughout. You loathe me. Yes, madam, you may wince,' he continued bitterly, 'for you shall still be my wife; and when you are my wife we will talk of that.'
'Never!' she said, with a brave face; but her heart beat wildly, and a mist rose before her eyes.
He laughed. 'My legions are round me,' he said. 'Where are yours?'
'You are a gentleman,' she answered with an effort. 'You will let me go.'
'If I do not?'