Britta shook her head. "The tide is against them--no! we shall be there first. But," and she looked wistfully at Pierre, "my grandmother said Mr. Dyceworthy had sworn to ruin the Fröken. What did she mean, do you think?"
Duprèz did not answer,--he made a strange grimace and shrugged his shoulders. Then he seized the whip and lashed the pony.
"Faster, faster, mon chère!" he cried to that much-astonished, well-intentioned animal. "It is not a time to sleep, ma foi!" Then to Britta--"My little one, you shall see! We shall disturb the good clergyman at his peaceful supper--yes indeed! Be not afraid!"
And with such reassuring remarks he beguiled the rest of the way, which to both of them seemed unusually long, though it was not much past nine when they rattled into the little village called by courtesy a town, and came to a halt within a few paces of the minister's residence. Everything was very quiet--the inhabitants of the place retired to rest early--and the one principal street was absolutely deserted. Duprèz alighted.
"Stay you here, Britta," he said, lightly kissing the hand that held the pony's reins. "I will make an examination of the windows of the house. Yes--before knocking at the door! You wait with patience. I will let you know everything!"
And with a sense of pleasurable excitement in his mind, he stole softly along on tip-toe--entered the minister's garden, fragrant with roses and mignonette, and then, attracted by the sound of voices, went straight up to the parlor window. The blind was down and he could see nothing, but he heard Mr. Dyceworthy's bland persuasive tones, echoing out with a soft sonorousness, as though he were preaching to some refractory parishioner. He listened attentively.
"Oh strange, strange!" said Mr. Dyceworthy. "Strange that you will not see how graciously the Lord hath delivered you into my hands! Yea,--and no escape is possible! For lo, you yourself, Fröken Thelma," Dyceworthy started, "you yourself came hither unto my dwelling, a woman all unprotected, to a man equally unprotected,--and who, though a humble minister of saving grace, is not proof against the offered surrender of your charms! Make the best of it, my sweet girl!--make the best of it! You can never undo what you have done to-night."
"Coward! . . . coward!" and Thelma's rich low voice caused Pierre to almost leap forward from the place where he stood concealed. "You,--you made me come here--you sent me that card--you dared to use the name of my betrothed husband, to gain your vile purpose! You have kept me locked in this room all these hours--and do you think you will not be punished? I will let the whole village know of your treachery and falsehood!"