"Hear me, then. As Creighton, I loved you years ago—as Guy Rivers I love you still. The life of Ralph Colleton is forfeit—for ever forfeit—and a few days only interpose between him and eternity. I alone can save him—I can give him freedom; and, in doing so, I shall risk much, and sacrifice not a little. I am ready for this risk—I am prepared for every sacrifice—I will save him at all hazards from his doom, upon one condition!"
"Speak! speak!"
"That you be mine—that you fly with me—that in the wild regions of the west, where I will build you a cottage and worship you as my own forest divinity, you take up your abode with me, and be my wife. My wife!—all forms shall be complied with, and every ceremony which society may call for. Nay, shrink not back thus—" seeing her recoil in horror and scorn at the suggestion—"beware how you defy me—think, that I have his life in my hands—think, that I can speak his doom or his safety—think, before you reply!"
"There is no time necessary for thought, sir—none—none. It can not be. I can not comply with the conditions which you propose. I would die first."
"And he will die too. Be not hasty, Miss Colleton—remember—it is not merely your death but his—his death upon the gallows—"
"Spare me! spare me!"
"The halter—the crowd—the distorted limb—the racked frame—"
"Horrible—horrible!"
"Would you see this—know this, and reflect upon the shame, the mental agony, far greater than all, of such a death to him?"
With a strong effort, she recovered her composure, though but an instant before almost convulsed—