"No search is being made for you by your friends, for a note was left in your room, stating that you had fled to marry your lover, Harry Hawthorne. Your mother believes that statement, and so there is not the least suspicion that I carried you off." "You fiend!" she cried; then added: "But Harry Hawthorne will search for me!" "Harry Hawthorne gave up the search for you weeks ago, and sailed for Europe." "It is false!" "It is perfectly true. Why he went, I know not, but I have read in a New York paper of his going. Believe me or not, as you will, my charmer, but you are entirely in my power, without hope of rescue, and I am desperate with love for you. I will not permit rivalry from any living man. Either my bride you shall be, or the bride of Death!" She sat listening and shuddering before the terrible decision of his words, and the blue fire of his determined eyes. She felt that neither prayers nor tears would move him. He was mad with love, stubborn with a sense of power. Changing his mood, he began to pour out in burning words all the mighty strength of his passion, pleading, raving, imploring her kindness in return. He might as well have prayed to a statue, so changeless was the scorn of her silent lips. He asked her, almost frantically: "Do you understand that unless you marry me there is no appeal from the sentence of death?" "Yes, I understand; but I consider death preferable to a union with you." Angered by the scorn of her words, he retorted: "It will be a cruel death, I warn you, at the hands of old Jane Crabtree and your body will not even have Christian burial. It will be flung into an old disused well on the premises, and the secret of your fate will never be known." "Be it so. At least, you cannot murder my soul. It will return to the God who gave it," she replied, dauntlessly bravely, determined that he should not have the satisfaction of seeing her wince before his threats. He rose, with a baffled air, exclaiming: "I shall not consider this answer final. I shall give you one more week in which to decide your fate." Geraldine's heart leaped with joy. Another week's respite! And who could tell what might happen in that time? She had been praying, praying, praying all the while. Perhaps God would save her from her enemy's wiles. Smiling grimly, Clifford Standish continued: "I shall leave old Jane to plead my cause with you, and I believe that she will prove a powerful advocate. So sure am I of her ultimate success, that in a week I shall return, bringing with me a justice of the peace, empowered with authority to join us in matrimonial bonds. If you refuse, I shall go away, leaving you in the hands of old Jane, to be tortured to death and buried in the old well!" Not a word came from the white lips of the girl, but the scorn of her eyes was fiery enough to make him hurry from her presence with a stifled oath. She saw him leave with a great strangling sob of relief, and murmured: