"What? Is my love so beggarly a thing that the only answer deigned to its utterance is a scurvy request to get beyond its hearing? Nay, I have looked upon thy frozen greetings long enough, and they, I tell thee, have poorly matched my ardor. Listen! Thou dost wish to go?" he questioned, placing himself before the door and holding to the curtains for support. "Well, I will ask but cheap recompense for the loss of thy fair company. 'Tis a kiss from thy red lips; what sayest thou?" "And thou dost call thyself a gentleman!" exclaimed Elinor looking at him with scorn, her fear in a measure giving place to indignation at the insolent and shameless words. "Let me depart, I say--nay, I command thee." "Ha! ha! Thou, I think, art carrying thyself loftily. 'Command!'" he repeated with a laugh. "Nay, marry! Here thou wilt stay until them thinkest thy going worth the price. And while thou dost meditate upon it I will drink to thy health." He staggered toward the table and refilled the cup. Elinor glanced about the room seeking some possible avenue of escape. Her eyes rested upon the portieres in front of the window; she moved toward them, but as her dress rustled Winter turned at the sound. "Aye, walk the room, my pretty one; thou wilt find thy cage well barred. But enough of this," he continued, approaching her, "we do but delay. Thou didst ask thy father's release from his compact. Well, he shall be set free, but thou must recompense--not in coin, not in some heavy muttered penance, but by thy beauty." He caught the girl in his arms and whispered in her ear. Then the indignities which had been heaped upon her gave strength to her arm. No sooner had his drunken tongue uttered the sentence than she smote with all her might the face gazing into hers. The blow for a moment staggered the man and he released his hold; in that instant of freedom Elinor sprang toward the window, dashing the curtains aside. "Stand back!" she cried, as he made a step toward her, his face purple with rage, "and for thy wicked words ask forgiveness from heaven ere it blast thee. Where is thy religion, where thy manhood, thou beast? Aye, beast is too good a term for such as thee, for they respect the sex--even the stag will not goad the doe. I fear thee not; move from where thou art and by the God who heard thy wicked words I'll cry thy infamy and treason in a voice which shall 'rouse all London, and wake the sleepy headsman to grind the axe. Now, I fear thee not!" For a moment Winter paused, looking at the girl. Then his quick wit, no longer dulled by the wine which had blinded him to the consequences of the words he had uttered, came to his aid, and he replied: "What? And lay thy father's head, as well as mine, upon the block?"