“My dear lady,” returned the suitor, attempting a sneer, his hot wrath simmering beneath, “you talk foolishly. Do you fancy I shall give up the cherished hope and plan of a lifetime to suit a whim of yours? I tell you, before your father left India he conversed with my father on this subject, and it was arranged between them that you and I should be married. Why do you suppose I have held my tongue so long? I’ll tell you. Simply because I regarded the whole thing as settled.” “Have you said all you had to say, my lord?” the girl asked as calmly as possible. “That depends upon how you take what I have said. What I had to say was this: Our marriage will take place before the present year is at an end.” “Is that all, sir?” “I would like to have you tell me what you think of it?” “I have said all that I have to say on that subject, Lord Oakleigh. If you did not understand me, I beg that you will understand me now. I shall never be your wife.” “But I say, you will.” “I can not prevent you from saying what you please; but, surely, over my own fate I should be allowed to hold an opinion. Breakfast will be waiting.” “Stop! By --!” starting up with a fierce oath and grasping her by the arm. “You do not leave me in that fashion. Before you go you must hear a word I have to say. If you will marry me quietly of your own free will--Hush!--keep still till I have said my say!” She had attempted to break away and leave him, when he had thrust her back upon the seat from which she had arisen. “There!” he went on, hissing out his words madly. “Sit you there and listen: If you will marry me quietly, as it is your duty to do, all may be well. I will do by you, for your good and comfort, all that any man could do. I will be a true husband to you, kind and loving. But if you refuse me, if you persist in your stubborn will not to be my wife, if you hold out against me and persuade my grandfather to join you, if you do this I will make your life a living torture! I will strike you down so that you shall cry to me for mercy! Aye, the time shall come when you will beg of me to take pity on you and make you my wife! How do you like the picture?” “Lord Oakleigh! Let me go! I have no more to say.” “I ask you, how do you like the picture I have drawn?” “And I ask you to let me go.” “Won’t you answer me?” “You need no answer. You do not wish for an answer. If you can find delight in torturing me I suppose I must submit until I can break from you.” “Why don’t you call me, Monster!--as I see it plainly in your mind to call me?” “Simply, sir, because I prefer that you should characterize yourself.” “Cordelia! By --! I would give a thousand pounds if you could be a man for just one poor minute! It is a wonder that I do not strike you where you sit.” “And yet you ask me to become your wife! I can scarcely understand you.”