“I cannot, Elsie. My chief orders me to join him. You must prepare to accompany me.”
“No, no!” murmured Elsie. “He loves me so! And I love him. Our child, too—how can I rob him of our unborn babe?”
“Another sheep for our flock,” answered Brake solemnly. “Elsie, do you forget your oath? Are you one of us, or are you a common hypocrite, who will be of us until the hour of self-sacrifice, and then fly like a coward? Elsie, you must leave to-night.”
“Ah! my husband, my husband!” sobbed the unhappy woman.
“You have no husband, woman,” cried Brake harshly. “I promised Dayton not to speak to you as long as you were his wife, but the vow was annulled before it was made. Your husband in God yet awaits you. You will yet be blessed with the true spouse.”
“I feel as if I were going to die,” cried Elsie. “How can I ever forsake him—he who was so good to me?”
“Nonsense! no weakness. He is not worthy of you. Go home and prepare for your journey. You know where to meet me. I will have everything ready, and by daybreak there shall be no trace of us left. Beware of permitting your husband to suspect anything. He is not very shrewd at such things—he thought I was a Jesuit in disguise—but we had better be careful. Now go. You have been too long here already. Bless you, sister.”
A few faint sobs, a rustling of leaves, and I knew that Brake was alone. I rose, and stepped silently into the open space in which he stood. His back was toward me. His arms were lifted high over his head with an exultant gesture, and I could see his profile, as it slightly turned toward me, illuminated with a smile of scornful triumph. I put my hand suddenly on his throat from behind, and flung him on the ground before he could utter a cry.
“Not a word,” I said, unclasping a short-bladed knife which I carried; “answer my questions, or, by heaven, I will cut your throat from ear to ear!”
He looked up into my face with an unflinching eye, and set his lips as if resolved to suffer all.