“I can’t—I can’t—” she exclaimed desperately.
“He shan’t have you,” said Heber again, as if he had not heard her. “D’ye think I’ve ridden all this way for nothing?”
“It’s too late. There’s nought to be done now,” cried the girl. “Go—go, Heber. Let me be! Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?”
“You’ll do what I bid you. Come, Catherine; it’s best done first as last. I’ve got a cloak for you there on the saddle.”
The horse moved outside, and the sound sent Black Heber to the door. All was as still as death, and he turned back.
“There’s no time to lose,” said he. “Come, be a good girl.”
As he spoke an imperceptible stir of air flicked at the candle-flame and its shine struck on the gold ring with a device of clasped hands on Catherine’s finger. He took her almost roughly by the wrist.
“Take that off,” he said; “you’ll need it no more.”
She shook her head.