“Bad! Bad!” Henrietta muttered.
She was coming to her senses. She was beginning to understand the position; to comprehend that no rescuers were here, no search party had found her; and that—and that—had not one of them dropped a word about her going back? Going back meant going back to that—place! With a sudden gesture she thrust the food from her.
“Ain’t you going to eat?” Bess asked, staring. “I thought you’d be famished.”
“Not here! Not here!” she answered violently.
“Oh, nonsense!” the other rejoined. “Don’t be a fool! You’re clemmed, I’ll be bound. Eat while you can.”
But, “Not here! Not here!” Henrietta replied. And she thrust the food away.
The man interposed.
“Stow it!” he said, in a threatening tone. “You eat while you can and where you can!”
But she was desperate.
“I’ll not eat here!” she cried. “I’ll not eat here! And I’ll not go back!” her voice rising. “I will die before I will go back. Do you hear?” with the fierceness of a wild creature at bay. “I do not care what you do! And the child is dying. Another night—but I’ll not suffer it! And if you lay a finger on me”—repelling Bess, who had made a feint of seizing her—“I will scream until I am heard! Ay, I will!” she repeated, her eyes sparkling. “But take me to the house and I will go quietly! I will go quietly!”