"Oh, you shall have air enough anon," he answered with a half-strangled laugh, his passion mounting ever. "Hark you, now--hark you, for Richard's sake, since you'll not listen for my own nor yours. There is another course by which I can save both Richard's life and honour. You know it, and you counted upon my generosity to suggest it. But you overlooked the thing on which you should have counted. You overlooked my love. Count upon that, my Ruth, and Richard shall have naught to fear. Count upon that, and when we meet this evening, Richard and I, it is I who will tender the apology, I who will admit that I was wrong to introduce your name into that company last night, and that what Richard did was a just and well-deserved punishment upon me. This will I do if you'll but count upon my love."
She looked up at him fearfully, yet with flutterings of hope. "What is't you mean?" she asked him faintly.
"That if you'll promise to be my wife..."
"Your wife!" she interrupted him. She struggled to free herself, released one arm and struck him in the face. "Let me go, you coward!"
He was answered. His arms melted from her. He fell back a pace, very white and even trembling, the fire all gone from his eye, which was now turned dull and deadly.
"So be it," he said, and strode to the bell-rope. "I'll not offend again. I had not offended now"--he continued, in the voice of one offering an explanation cold and formal--"but that when first I came into your life you seemed to bid me welcome." His fingers closed upon the crimson bell-cord. She guessed his purpose.
"Wait!" she gasped, and put forth her hand. He paused, the rope in his, his eye kindling anew. "You... you mean to kill Richard now?" she asked him.
A swift lifting of his brows was his only answer. He tugged the cord. From the distance the peal of the bell reached them faintly.
"Oh, wait, wait!" she begged, her hands pressed against her cheeks. He stood impassible--hatefully impassible. "....... if I were to consent to... this... how... how soon...?" He understood the unfinished question. Interest warmed his face again. He took a step towards her, but by a gesture she seemed to beg him come no nearer.
"If you will promise to marry me within the week, Richard shall have no cause to fear either for his life or his honour at my hands."
She seemed now to be recovering her calm. "Very well," she said, her voice singularly steady. "Let that be a bargain between us. Spare Richard's life and honour--both, remember!--and on Sunday next..." For all her courage her voice quavered and faltered. She dared add no more, lest it should break altogether.