He turned away as he spoke, as if to resume his commands; but Margarita called him back.
“If I consent,” she commenced, with hesitation, “when will you demand the fulfillment of my promise?”
“To-night,” he replied; “so soon as Father Aneres can be brought from La Embocadura!”
“Why such haste?” she demanded. “Will not to-morrow be quite soon enough? Remember, my mother was only buried to-day!”
“A few hours can make no difference in that matter,” he replied, “but might in another view. I must have your hand to-night, or these men must die now.”
It was a terrible alternative. But Margarita had seen Harding’s messenger, and knew that McCulloch, with his Rangers, might be expected within three hours. The only question was, whether she could find excuses enough to delay the ceremony for that length of time. Could she do so, she was safe; but—and it was a terrible thought—should De Marsiac use his power to hasten it, she was lost! But, running over in her mind all the plausible reasons she might give for an hour’s delay, and especially reflecting upon the consequences of a refusal, she at length determined to consent.
“I can do no more,” she said.
“Then I understand you to consent?” he asked.
“I do,” she replied, “on the condition that you send these unfortunate men to their army immediately.”
“As soon as you are mine, they shall set out,” said the count; and Margarita was obliged to be satisfied with his pledge. He at once ordered the prisoners unbound, and taken back to their temporary prisons; and walking beside his intended bride, he followed the little procession to the house, and at once gave orders to summon the priest.