"Oh, I must--I must--I must say no!" I cried. "Don't question me, don't press me. I could not--I could not do what you ask!"
"I yield, Maud--I yield, my dear. I will not press you. I have spoken to you frankly, perhaps too frankly; but agony and despair will speak out and plead, even with the most obdurate and cruel!"
He shut the door, not violently, but with a resolute hand, and I thought I heard a cry.
The discovery that Dudley was already married spared me further importunity. I was anxious to relieve my uncle's necessities, which, I knew were pressing; and the attorney from Feltram was up with him all night, trying in vain to devise some means by which I might do so. The morning after, I was told I must write to Lady Knollys to ask if I might go to her, as there was shortly to be an execution in the house.
I met Dudley on my way through the hall. He spoke oddly about his father, and made a very strange proposal to me--that I should give him my written promise for twenty thousand pounds, and he would "take me cleverly out o' Bartram-Haugh and put me wi' my cousin Knollys!"
I refused indignantly, but he caught me by the wrist.
"Don't ye be a-flyin' out," he said peremptorily. "Take it or leave it--on or off! Can't ye speak wi' common sense for once? I'll take ye out o' all this, if you'll gi'e me what I say."
He looked black when I refused again. I judged it best to tell my uncle of his offer. He was startled, but made what excuse he could, smiling askance, a pale, peaked smile that haunted me. And then, once more, entering an unfrequented room, I came upon the great bony figure of Madame de la Rougierre. She was to be my companion for a week or two, I was told, and shortly after her coming I found my walks curtailed. I wrote again to my Cousin Knollys, imploring her to take me away. This letter my uncle intercepted, and when she came in reply to my former letter, I had but the sight of her carriage driving swiftly away.
The morning after I was informed madame was to take me to join Milly in France. As Uncle Silas had directed, I wrote to Cousin Monica from London. I know madame asked me what I would do for her if she took me to Lady Knollys. I was inwardly startled, but refused, seeing before me only a tempter and betrayer; and together we ended our journey, driving from the station through the dark and starless night to find ourselves at last in Mr. Charke's room at Bartram-Haugh.
There were bailiffs in the house, I was told. I was locked in. I entreated madame wildly, piteously, to save me; but she mocked me in my agony. I escaped for a brief moment, and sought my uncle. I can never forget the look he fixed on me.