Even when they were alone, he first put the logs together with the great tongs and replaced them in their stand ere he went to her and clasped her hands and said with a passionate eagerness, "Jane, dearest! I have come again to ask you to marry me. Say one good, kind word. When you were not as high as my heart, you did promise to be my wife. I vow you did! You know you did! Keep your promise; oh, I look for you to keep your promise!" "Stephen, I knew not then what marriage meant. You were as a brother to me. I love you yet as I loved you then. I am your friend, your sister if you will." "I will not. You must be my wife." "I cannot be your wife. I am already plighted." "To Lord Neville. What the devil——" "Sir!" "I beg your pardon. I am no saint, and what you say stirs me to use words not found in books. As for Neville, you shall never marry him. I forbid it. I will hunt him to the gates of death." "It is sinful to say such things." "Let my sins alone. I am not in the humour to be sorry for them. I say again, you shall not marry that scoundrelly Scot." "He is not what you call him—far from it." "I call things by their right names. I call a Scot, a Scot; and a scoundrel, a scoundrel." He threw her hands far from him, and strode up and down the room, desperate and full of wrath. "You shall marry no man but myself. Before earth and heaven you shall!" "If God wills, I shall marry Lord Neville." "I say _no_!" he shouted. "Jane, when the King comes back, and I have my estate and title, will you marry me?" "You are asking me to marry your estate and title. I do not value either _that_—" and she snapped her thumb against her finger, with no doubtful expression. "Oh, Jane! I shall go to total ruin if you do not marry me." "Shall I marry a man who is not lord of himself? I will not." "You have made me your enemy. What follows is your own fault." "’Tis a poor love that turns to hatred; and you can do no more than you are let do." "You will see. By my soul, ’tis truth!" "There is God between me and you. I have no fear." "I am beyond reason. What am I saying? All my quarrels with you are kind ones, Jane. Oh, ’tis ten thousand pities you will not love me!" "It is nowise possible, Stephen." He flung himself into a chair, laid his arms upon the table, and buried his face in them. "Go away, then," he sobbed; "I wish to see your face no more. For your sake, I will hate all women forever." There was no use in prolonging a conversation so hopeless. She went away, and in the hall met her brother Cymlin. He looked at her angrily. "You have been behaving badly to Stephen; I see that much. What for did God make women? They are His wrath, I think. You and your friend are both as wicked and cruel and beautiful as tigers; and you have no more heart or conscience than cats have."