“Girl!” he exclaimed, “will you drive me to madness. Will you compel me to do what I would not!”
The preacher interposed. The manner of Dunbar was that of a man about to strike his enemy. Even Frederica closed her eyes, expecting the blow.
“Let me endeavor to persuade the damsel, my brother,” was the suggestion of Veitch. Dunbar turned away, and went toward the window, leaving the field to the preacher. To all the entreaties of the latter Frederica made the same reply.
“Though death stared me in the face, I should never marry that man!”
“Death shall stare you in the face,” was the fierce cry of Dunbar. “Nay, you shall behold him in such terrors as you have never fancied yet, but you shall be brought to know and to submit to my power. Ho, there! Nesbitt, bring out the prisoner.”
This order naturally startled Frederica. She had continued kneeling. She now rose to her feet. In the same moment Dunbar turned to where she stood, full of fearful expectation, grasped her by the wrist, and dragged her to the window. She raised her head, gave but one glance at the scene before her, and fell back swooning. The cruel spectacle which she had been made to witness, was that of her father, surrounded by a guard, and the halter about his neck, waiting only the terrible word from the ruffian in authority.
In that sight, the unhappy girl lost all consciousness. She would have fallen upon the ground, but that the hand of Dunbar still grasped her wrist. He now supported her in his arms.
“Marry us at once,” he cried to Veitch.
“But she can’t understand—she can’t answer,” replied the priest.
“That’s as it should be,” answered Dunbar, with a laugh; “silence always gives consent.”