“Oh no, Gerty; oh no,” he said.  “Do you not understand yet?  You were everything in the world to me; you were life itself.  Without you I had nothing, and the world might just as well come to an end for me.  And when I thought you were going away from me, what could I do?  I could not reach you by letters, and letters; and how could I know what the people around you were saying to you?  Ah, you do not know what I have suffered, Gerty!  And always I was saying to myself that if I could get you away from these people, you would remember the time that you gave me the red rose, and all those beautiful days would come back again, and I would lake your hand again, and I would forget altogether about the terrible nights when I saw you beside me and heard you laugh just as in the old times.  And I knew there was only the one way left.  How could I but try that?  I knew you would be angry, but I hoped your anger would go away.  And now you are angry, Gerty, and my speaking to you is not of much use—­as yet; but I can wait until I see yourself again, as you used to be, in the garden—­don’t you remember, Gerty?”

Her face was proud, cold, implacable.

“Do I understand you aright:  that you have shut me up in this yacht and mean to take me away?”

“Gerty, I have saved you from yourself!”

“Will you be so kind as to tell me where we are going?”

“Why not away back to the Highlands, Gerty?” said he, eagerly.  “And then some day when your heart relents, and you forgive me, you will put your hand in mine, and we will walk up the road to Castle Dare.  Do you not think they will be glad to see us that day, Gerty?”

She maintained her proud attitude, but she was trembling from head to foot.

“Do you mean to say that until I consent to be your wife I am not to be allowed to leave this yacht?”

“You will consent Gerty!”

“Not if I were to be shut up here for a thousand years!” she exclaimed, with another burst of passion.  “Oh, you will pay for this dearly!  I thought it was madness—­mere folly; but if it is true, you will rue this day!  Do you think we are savages here?  Do you think we have no law?”

“I do not care for any law,” said he, simply.  “I can only think of the one thing in the world.  If I have not your love, Gerty, what else can I care about?”

“My love!” she exclaimed.  “And this is the way to earn it, truly!  My love!  If you were to keep me shut up for a thousand years, you would never have it!  You can have my hatred, if you like, and plenty of it, too!”

“You are angry, Gerty!” was all he said.

“Oh, you do not know with whom you have to deal!” she continued, with the same bitter emphasis.  “You terrified me with stories of butchery—­the butchery of innocent women and children; and no doubt you thought the stories were fine; and now you too would show you are one of the race by taking revenge on a woman.  But if she is only a woman, you have not conquered her yet!  Oh, you will find out before long that we have law in this country, and that it is not to be outraged with impunity.  You think you can do as you like, because you are a Highland master, and you have a lot of slaves round you!”