“Mollie!” he called, advancing a step.

At the sound of that hated voice she gave a violent start, a faint, startled cry, and, turning for the first time, eyed him like a wild animal at bay.

“Mollie, my poor little girl,” he said in a voice of real pity, “you are gone to a shadow!  I never thought a few days’ confinement could work such a change.”

She never spoke; she sat breathing hard and audibly, and eying him with wild, wide eyes.

“You mustn’t give way like this, Mollie; you mustn’t really, you know.  It will not be for long.  I mean to take you away from here.  Very soon we will go to Cuba, and then my whole life will be devoted to you.  No slave will serve his mistress as I will you.”

He drew nearer as he spoke.  Quick as lightning her hand sought her breast, and the blue gleam of the dagger dazzled his eyes.

“One step nearer,” she hissed, between set, glistening teeth, “and I’ll bury it in your heart or my own!”

She raised it with a gesture grand and terrible, and rising slowly from her seat, confronted him like a little tigress.

“Mollie,” he said, imploringly, “listen to me—­your husband!”

Her white teeth locked together with a clinching noise; she stood there like a pale little fury.

“Have you no pity for such love as mine, Mollie?  Is your heart made of stone, that all my devotion can not melt it?”

To his horror, she broke into a discordant, mirthless laugh.

“His devotion!  He tears me away from my friends, he locks me up in a dungeon until he drives me mad!  His devotion!”

She laughed hysterically again.

“It seems harsh, Mollie, but it is not meant in harshness.  If there were any other way of winning you, you know I would never resort to such extreme measures.  I am not the only man that has carried off the woman he loved, when other means failed to win her.”

Again he came nearer, holding out his hands with an imploring gesture.

“Only say that you will try and love me—­only say that you will be my wife—­promise me on your word of honor, and I will take you back to New York this day!”

But Mollie’s answer was to raise her formidable knife.

“One step more,” she said, glaring upon him with suppressed fury—­“one step nearer, if you dare!”

He saw in her face it was no idle threat, and he recoiled.

“Stay here, then,” he angrily cried, “since you will have it so!  It is your own fault, and you must abide the consequences.  Mine you shall be, by fair means or foul!  I leave you now, since my presence does no good, but by this day week you will be sailing with me to sunny Cuba.  There I can have things my own way, and your high-tragedy airs will avail you little.”

He walked to the door, turned, paused.  She stood like a statue, white as marble, but with, oh! such fiercely burning eyes!

“I have brought you an attendant,” he said, sullenly.  “I will send her up for those things,” pointing to the untasted dinner; “she will wait upon you during the brief time you are to remain here.”