“Drink this,” cried Jonathan, handing her the cup.  “You’ll feel better after it.”

Mechanically raising the potion to her lips, the poor creature swallowed it without hesitation.

“Is it poison?” she asked.

“No,” replied Jonathan, with a brutal laugh.  “I’m not going to get rid of you just yet.  It’s gin—­a liquor you used to like.  You’ll find the benefit of it by and by.  You’ve a good deal to go through to-night.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Mrs. Sheppard, “are you come to renew your terrible proposals?”

“I’m come to execute my threats,” replied Wild.  “To-night you shall be my wedded wife.”

“I will die first,” replied Mrs. Sheppard.

“You may die afterwards as soon as you please,” retorted Jonathan; “but live till then you shall.  I’ve sent for the priest.”

“Mercy!” cried Mrs. Sheppard, vainly trying to discover a gleam of compassion in the thief-taker’s inexorable countenance,—­“Mercy! mercy!”

“Pshaw!” rejoined Jonathan.  “You should be glad to be made an honest woman.”

“Oh! let me die,” groaned the widow.  “I have not many days,—­perhaps, not many hours to live.  But kill me rather than commit this outrage.”

“That wouldn’t answer my purpose,” replied Jonathan, savagely.  “I didn’t carry you off from old Wood to kill you, but to wed you.”

“What motive can you have for so vile a deed?” asked Mrs. Sheppard.

“You know my motive well enough,” answered Jonathan.  “However, I’ll refresh your memory.  I once might have married you for your beauty,—­now I marry you for your wealth.”

“My wealth,” replied Mrs. Sheppard.  “I have nothing.”

“You are heiress to the Trenchard property,” rejoined Jonathan, “one of the largest estates in Lancashire.”

“Not while Thames Darrell and Sir Rowland live.”

“Sir Rowland is dead,” replied Jonathan, gloomily.  “Thames Darrell only waits my mandate to follow him.  Before our marriage there will be no life between you and the estates.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Mrs. Sheppard.

“Look here,” cried Jonathan, stooping down and taking hold of a ring in the floor, with which by a great effort he raised up a flag.  “In this pit,” he added, pointing to the chasm below, “your brother is buried.  Here your nephew will speedily be thrown.”

“Horrible!” cried Mrs. Sheppard, shuddering violently.  “But your dreadful projects will recoil on your own head.  Heaven will not permit the continuance of such wickedness as you practise.”

“I’ll take my chance,” replied Jonathan, with a sinister smile.  “My schemes have succeeded tolerably well hitherto.”

“A day of retribution will assuredly arrive,” rejoined Mrs. Sheppard.

“Till then, I shall remain content,” returned Wild.  “And now, Mrs. Sheppard, attend to what I’m about to say to you.  Years ago, when you were a girl and in the bloom of your beauty, I loved you.”