"I asked you to come here, Elsie," continued Henderson, somewhat hurriedly and nervously, "because I want to have a good talk with you. I want in fact to make some arrangements, some permanent arrangement. You see all that talk about our marriage is nonsense. I've others to consider, my mother to consider, and a marriage between us would never do, that's a fact." "When did you first learn this fact?" asked Elsie, bitterly. "Well, you see, I was only a lad when I first knew you, Elsie, and lads do and say a lot of foolish things. But I want to make it all square and act handsomely, as I told you in my letter, if you will only be a sensible girl." "And how much do you propose to buy my silence for?" said Elsie, yet more bitterly. "Oh, well, it's no use speaking in that tone. I mean to do what I say, and settle enough on you to make you comfortable for life. Why not emigrate, and you could marry some fellow out there with the money I give you? I thought of even as much as two thousand pounds." "Not for ten hundred thousand pounds!" cried Elsie, raising her voice in passionate accents. "Not for all the money that was ever coined, Tom Henderson!" she went on. "What do you take me for? Do you think I would sell my rights, the rights of my unborn child? Never! You must marry me, or you will rue the day." "I can not marry you," answered Henderson, doggedly. "Don't you see it's impossible for a fellow in my position to do so? How can I take a wife from a public house? You should look at things more sensibly, Elsie!" "You should have thought of all this before--before it was too late. Now it is. If not for my sake, for the sake of the child--" "Oh, bother the child!" muttered Henderson, brutally. The face of the woman he addressed turned absolutely livid. Her eyes dazed, her breath came short, and her hand convulsively grasped the revolver hidden beneath her cloak. "It shall not be the child of shame," she cried in a low fierce tone. "If you do not promise to do me justice, Tom Henderson, as sure as there is a God above us I will shoot you dead first, and then myself." She lifted the revolver as she spoke, and Henderson saw the gleam of steel in the moonlight, and his face grew pale. "Will you promise?" repeated Elsie, sternly, and her blazing eyes never left the changing face of the man standing before her. Henderson faltered. He saw she was in earnest, and he changed his manner. "Do not be foolish, Elsie," he said. "It is not folly," she answered in a determined voice. "Long have I borne with you; borne with your neglect, your insults; but now I have made up my mind. Either you marry me, or we both shall die." "Think for a moment--" "I will think no more; I have nearly gone mad with thinking; now I shall act. Tom Henderson, will you marry me?" "Oh, well, if you put it in that way I suppose I must."