"Not yet," he answered, tightening his grasp, and at the same time taking a pistol from his pocket. "I swear you shall never marry that man: promise me on your oath that you'll not, or--I'll shoot you through the heart; the heart that's turned false to me. D'ye hear," and he held the muzzle of his piece within a foot of her breast. Every trace of color fled from her face, but she stood like a marble statue, without speech or motion of a muscle, her eyes looking straight into his with firm defiance. "Do you hear?" he repeated, in a tone of exasperation, "speak! promise that you'll never marry Travilla, or I'll shoot you in three minutes--shoot you down dead on the spot, if I swing for it before night." "That will be as God pleases," she answered low and reverently; "you can have no power at all against me except it be given you from above." "I can't, hey? looks like it; I've only to touch the trigger here, and your soul's out o' your body. Better promise than die." Still she stood looking him unflinchingly in the eye; not a muscle moving, no sign of fear except that deadly pallor. "Well," lowering his piece, "you're a brave girl, and I haven't the heart to do it," he exclaimed in admiration. "I'll give up that promise; on condition that you make another--that you'll keep all this a secret for twenty-four hours, so I can make my escape from the neighborhood before they get after me with their bloodhounds." "That I promise, if you will be gone at once." "You'll not say a word to any one of having seen me, or suspecting I'm about here?" "Not a word until the twenty-four hours are over." "Then good-bye. Your pluck has saved your life; but remember, I've not said I won't shoot him or your father, if chance throws them in my way," he added, looking back over his shoulder with a malicious leer, as he left the arbor, then disappearing from sight among the trees and shrubbery beyond. Elsie's knees shook and trembled under her; she sank back into her seat, covering her face and bowing her head upon her lap, while she sent up silent, almost agonizing petitions for the safety of those two so inexpressibly dear to her. Some moments passed thus, then she rose and hastened, with a quick nervous step, to the house. She entered her boudoir, and lay down upon a couch trembling in every fibre, every nerve quivering with excitement. The shock had been terrible. "What de matter wid my chile? what ails you, honey?" asked Aunt Chloe, coming to her side full of concern. "I think one of my bad headaches is coming on, mammy. But oh, tell me, is Mr. Travilla here?--and papa! where is he?" "Here daughter," his voice answered, close at hand, "and with a note for you from Mr. Travilla, who has not shown himself to-day." She took it eagerly, but with a hand that trembled as if with sudden palsy, while the eyes, usually so keen-sighted, saw only a blurred and confused jumble of letters in place of the clear, legible characters really there.