“Lady Ongar,” he said, “you must listen to me for a moment. Why not do it without a quarrel?”
“If you mean that I cannot escape from you, it is true enough.”
“Why should you want to escape? Did I ever hurt you? Before this have I not protected you from injury?”
“No;—never. You protect me!”
“Yes;—I; from your husband, from yourself, and from the world. You do not know—not yet, all that I have done for you. Did you read what Lord Ongar had said?”
“I read what it pleased you to write.”
“What it pleased me! Do you pretend to think that Lord Ongar did not speak as he speaks there? Do you not know that those were his own words? Do you not recognize them? Ah, yes, Lady Ongar; you know them to be true.”
“Their truth or falsehood is nothing to me. They are altogether indifferent to me either way.”
“That would be very well if it were possible; but it is not. There; now we are at the top, and it will be easier. Will you let me have the honour to offer you my arm? No! Be it so; but I think you would walk the easier. It would not be for the first time.”
“That is a falsehood.” As she spoke she stepped before him, and looked into his face with eyes full of passion. “That is a positive falsehood. I never walked with a hand resting on your arm.”
There came over his face the pleasantest smile as he answered her. “You forget everything,” he said;—“everything. But it does not matter. Other people will not forget. Julie, you had better take me for your husband. You will be better as my wife, and happier, than you can be otherwise.”
“Look down there, Count Pateroff;—down to the edge. If my misery is too great to be borne, I can escape from it there on better terms than you propose to me.”
“Ah! That is what we call poetry. Poetry is very pretty, and in saying this as you do, you make yourself divine. But to be dashed over the cliffs and broken on the rocks;—in prose it is not so well.”
“Sir, will you allow me to pass on while you remain; or will you let me rest here, while you return alone?”
“No, Julie; not so. I have found you with too much difficulty. In London, you see, I could not find you. Here, for a minute, you must listen to me. Do you not know, Julie, that your character is in my hands?”
“In your hands? No;—never; thank God, never. But what if it were?”
“Only this—that I am forced to play the only game that you leave open to me. Chance brought you and me together in such a way that nothing but marriage can be beneficial to either of us;—and I swore to Lord Ongar that it should be so. I mean that it shall be so—or that you shall be punished for your misconduct to him and to me.”
“You are both insolent and false. But listen to me, since you are here and I cannot avoid you. I know what your threats mean.”
“I have never threatened you. I have promised you my aid, but have used no threats.”
“Not when you tell me that I shall be punished? But to avoid no punishment, if any be in your power, will I ever willingly place myself in your company. You may write of me what papers you please, and repeat of me whatever stories you may choose to fabricate, but you will not frighten me into compliance by doing so. I have, at any rate, spirit enough to resist such attempts as that.”
“As you are living at present, you are alone in the world!”
“And I am content to remain alone.”
“You are thinking, then, of no second marriage?”
“If I were, does that concern you? But I will speak no further word to you. If you follow me into the inn, or persecute me further by forcing yourself upon me, I will put myself under the protection of the police.”
Having said this, she walked on as quickly as her strength would permit, while he walked by her side, urging upon her his old arguments as to Lord Ongar’s expressed wishes, as to his own efforts on her behalf—and at last as to the strong affection with which he regarded her. But she kept her promise, and said not a word in answer to it all. For more than an hour they walked side by side, and during the greater part of that time not a syllable escaped from her. From moment to moment she kept her eye warily on him, fearing that he might take her by the arm, or attempt some violence with her. But he was too wise for this, and too fully conscious that no such proceeding on his part could be of any service to him. He continued, however, to speak to her words which she could not avoid hearing—hoping rather than thinking that he might at last frighten her by a description of all the evil which it was within his power to do her. But in acting thus he showed that he knew nothing of her character. She was not a woman whom any prospect of evil could possibly frighten into a distasteful marriage.
Within a few hundred yards of the hotel there is another fort, and at this point the path taken by Lady Ongar led into the private grounds of the inn at which she was staying. Here the count left her, raising his hat as he did so, and saying that he hoped to see her again before she left the island.
“If you do so,” said she, “it shall be in presence
