"This is my answer," he replied slowly and deliberately, his dark eyes upon hers: "Though each leaf upon every tree in all this vast continent were a golden sovereign, and all that vast treasure mine, should I but set thee free, I would turn my back upon it in scorn and disdain. Not for aught that this great world holds would I forego my power to make thee mine." Margaret had sunk back again upon the log from which she had risen, her hands over her face. I still lay where I was behind Dunraven. I would wait until the moment arrived when he would attempt to carry his scheme into effect; then at the very instant when he held the cup to his lips, I would dash it to the ground. Defeat would only seem the more bitter because he had been so near to victory. "So don thy fairest dress and thy brightest smile this evening, for I can wait no longer for the time when thou shalt be mine. With only the light of thine eyes to bask in, with thee to cheer me, this rough land would be an Eden, and we like two children to wander hand in hand beneath the trees. Such a life I have long dreamed of--such at last is at hand for me. The priest will make us one this very night. So prepare thee, for in a few brief moments he will be here." She raised her head, a look of determination in her blue eyes, which had grown hard and cold as steel. "I cannot tell what things the future holds in store for me, but this much is certain: Before I would submit to such an indignity I would slay myself with my dagger and so end my misery. I warn thee that I am desperate. Push me not to the wall, or I will do something that perchance thou wilt regret. Be not so sure. At the last moment the cup may be dashed from thy hands." And she arose, courage and desperation upon her face. "There is no help for it," he answered. "Thou canst do naught, Margaret, but weep and wring thy white hands; there is no one to aid thee. Thou art alone in my power--neither God nor man can help thee now." "Be not so sure of that, my lord," I answered as I stepped out into the firelight, my sword raised. "Thou knowest not what these dark woods contain." CHAPTER XVIII MY LORD TAKES HIS DEPARTURE He wheeled upon me as I spoke. My lady had given one loud cry, whether of joy or fear I knew not, and with clasped hands stood gazing at me. "So thou dost come at last," he said coolly. "It is well; one of my enemies has stepped out of my path forever to-day. Thou art the second and the last, and thou too shall go to join him. Francis!" he cried, raising his voice into a shout. An answering call came back from the darkness, and I could see the light as it streamed from the half-open door of a cabin, a few yards away. "Quick!" he cried. "'Tis that dog, Sir Thomas! Out, and at him!"