"I mean," he answered, in a low voice of concentrated rage and bitterness, "that your obstinacy has at length worn out my patience, and I have determined to take my own way in the matter regardless of your will." "What are you going to do?" she asked, in a quivering voice, while her young face blanched to a deathly hue. "I am going to make you my wife without your consent," he answered, grimly. "You cannot!" she answered, with dilating eyes and a trembling voice. "It would be no marriage if I refused to consent." "So much the worse for you, then," he answered, laughing harshly, "for the marriage ceremony shall certainly be read over us, and that will be entirely sufficient for me. I shall surely consider you my wife, then, and take you to my heart without further scruples." "No holy man of God would perform such an unhallowed ceremony," said she incredulously. "Do not delude yourself thus, my sweet girl," he laughed mockingly. "A _bona fide_ priest is already engaged for the important occasion. Will you be pleased to appoint the happy day?" "Never!" she flashed out bitterly. "You force me then to usurp your feminine privilege," he answered coolly. "And in that case your womanly vanity can of course pardon the impatient ardor of a lover who has waited humbly and patiently as I have done. To-morrow, then, shall witness our bridal!" "To-morrow!" she cried, springing up and clasping her small hands together in helpless agony. "To-morrow! Oh! no, you do not mean it! You will not be so cruel?" "You will see!" he answered. "I have made every preparation for the event, even to our bridal tour. To-morrow a steamer leaves her wharf for Europe. I have secured our passage, and this morning sent aboard of her a trunk well filled with feminine apparel for your use during the voyage. Of course you will select your bridal _trousseau_ after we arrive at Paris. I shall not deny my beautiful bride any luxury. It only remains for me to inform you that I will bring a priest out here to-morrow, and our marriage shall be duly celebrated before we take passage for the Old World." Lily remained standing, gazing at the scheming villain with dilated blue eyes, and lips and cheeks blanched to the pallid whiteness of death. Harold Colville laughed mockingly. "You may stare, fair one," he said. "To-morrow shall see you my wife. No power can save you." "No power!" she repeated, gazing at him with flashing eyes. "No power! Oh! blasphemer, do you forget that there is a God above who cares for the innocent and punishes the guilty? Beware, lest His vengeance fall upon you in the hour of your fancied triumph!" She looked like some beautiful, inspired prophetess as she faced him with a lifted hand that seemed to menace him with evil. Her golden hair had become loosened from its fastenings and streamed over her shoulders, gleaming around her lovely pallid features like a halo of light.