The chief, in his gorgeous raiment of velvet and gold, advanced to the center of the cavernous apartment; his six comrades, in broadcloth and silk, filing in behind him, where they took position in a well-dressed line. Then the pretended priest, with slow, even step, moved to a place on Tryon’s left hand and a little in front.
“Now, fair lady,” said the master of the situation, “I have come to fulfill my promise. I will set you free from this place, but you will go with me as my wife. Do you understand me?”
Something in the man’s voice—something new and strange—gave to our heroine a start of wonder. It had lost much of its huskiness and had put off its roughness; it sounded no more like the voice of the sea. She looked at him sharply, looked long and earnestly, and presently she saw a smile curling about his deep black eyes, a smile so wicked and malevolent and so vengeful that it aroused her beyond her endurance.
“Man! Demon! Fiend! Whatever you call yourself, I tell you, in your teeth, you speak falsehood! You have no power to make me your wife! Lay a hand upon me, and I will kill you if I can! Were this man in sacerdotal robe a true priest, he would know he can not do the wicked deed. It would be but mockery—an empty form. If he be a true man, he will not attempt it.”
“Holy father,” said the chief, turning to the pretended priest, without paying any heed whatever to the hot and angry words of the girl, “you hear what she says. Now what say you?”
“I say, my lord, if the situation is as you have represented it—if such has been the general understanding, and if the lady’s lawful guardian consents, I could marry you, and the bond would be too strong for man to break.”
“Now, Cordelia.” He had put his hand to his head, and appeared to be loosing something behind his ear, when a quick, sharp cry of alarm from one of the men behind him caused him to look toward the entrance.
On his way to the cave, as we might judge from what the constable had that morning seen, Tryon had been accompanied by a strong force of his sworn friends and adherents.
Ten stout men, well armed, he had left at the mouth of the outer cave, and the six who had come in with him he had brought for witnesses, being determined that the ceremony should not lack in that respect.
With regard to danger inside his cavernous retreat, the pirate had not dreamed of such a thing. He would as soon have thought of finding the sunlight streaming into its uttermost recesses.