CHAPTER XVI
In the Power of Sir Claudius
'I will never marry you! Never! I would rather die!' I cried passionately.
Sir Claudius laughed in a very insolent manner. We were talking in the big, bare drawing-room of his great hall, near Chichester, where his two sisters had been keeping guard over me ever since I arrived the day before.
When I came out of my swoon it was to find myself being carried on a roughly extemporized litter, and then, in a cart which jolted horribly. I was so sick and ill I scarcely cared what was happening to me, but, by and bye, anxiety for my lover's safety caused me to ask the man who drove the cart and sat sideways on the cart-shafts, if Sir Hubert Blair was also a prisoner. For some time the man did not answer, but after a while said, 'Yes.' That was all the information I could extract, and it made me exceedingly uneasy. The country was in a very lawless, unsettled state; the attention of all the upper classes being concentrated on the Government and the Royal family. While it was being settled who should reign over England there was scanty attention paid to the doings of such rascals as Sir Claudius Crossley, who, under the mask of a knighthood which he violated, roved over the country to spoil and ravage it for his own aggrandizement. Upon our arriving at Crossley Hall, Sir Claudius himself came forward and personally handed me over to his sisters, with the sneering remark that they were to see to it that I did not escape. The women were hard-featured and angular. They resembled their brother in appearance and character, and obeyed him so well that I was not left a moment unattended; and, lest I should escape whilst they slept, even the bedroom door was locked and the key kept under the pillow of the one who was pro tem. my jailer. When I had recovered from my sickness and was able to get up and dress, they took me into the big barn-like apartment they called the drawing-room that their brother might come to me. When he entered, they withdrew to a distant window, whilst he, immediately and without any preparation, began to assure me of his undying love, and to promise me my freedom if I would marry him.
It was a strange wooing, and I was so greatly indignant that I refused him with more haste than politeness, declaring that death itself would be preferable to living as his wife.
This made him angry, and in anger he was even more detestable than before; his frown being so terrible that I believed, in spite of his so-called love, he could almost have laid his hands upon me to wreak a fearful vengeance.
However he merely said—
''Tis a pity that you cannot love me, Mistress Brown,' and, taking a chair near me, endeavoured to grasp my hand, which I held back. 'For, let me tell you,' he continued, 'great harm will be done to an unlucky friend of yours unless you do.'
'Is this a threat?' I asked haughtily, showing no sign of fear, although my heart was beating quickly and wordlessly, and with exceeding earnestness a prayer for help and succour ascended from it.
'Call it what you please,' answered he, with a gesture of irritability. 'I tell you that if you will not marry me, your precious lover, Sir Hubert Blair—you start! Had you forgotten that we took him prisoner, too?—Sir Hubert Blair, I repeat, shall die?'