I felt a touch upon my arm; looking around, I saw Father Francis behind me.
"Dog!" I shouted, "and dost thou think to slink here thus to taunt me, and after thou hast sworn away my life?" and with a threatening look, I lifted my clenched fist.
"Hush!" he whispered, drawing nearer to me, his face grave and serious. "I have something of importance for thy ear alone. Come but into the next room. What! And when thy very life hangs in my hands, and I can save thee at a word? I offer to say that word even now for thee, and set thee and the lad free." And he pointed to Oliver, who upon seeing the priest had turned his back, and was gazing intently out of the window.
"Thy life is thine own, to throw away as thou choosest," he continued, "but the boy, so young and innocent--wouldst thou send him to his death? His blood would be upon thy head."
I hesitated, it would take but a moment after all, and I would save Oliver if I could.
"I will listen to thee," I finally replied, "but look thee--beware how thou dost trifle with me. Thou shalt pay dearly for it, if thou doest so," and I looked at him threateningly.
"I do not seek to trifle," he answered. "I talk but business for thee alone. Come!" and he crossed into the next room.
Hesitating I followed, and seated myself in a chair opposite him, which the plunderers had left.
"Out with it!" I cried impatiently. "Say quickly what thou wouldst and waste no time about it!"
"A moment," he mumbled, "only a moment. Dost know this handwriting?" And running his hand into the folds of his robe he brought out a paper and held it out to me.
Did I know it? Would I know my own heart beats, as they throbbed within my breast? I knew that delicate flowing hand. Did not there lie next my heart at that moment a yellow paper in the same writing?
I took it in my hand, and looking at its address a moment, broke the seal and opened it. It was addressed to Lord Dunraven, and ran as follows:
I received thy note only a few moments ago and make haste to answer it. I have thought over thy flattering offer, in which with vows of eternal love thou askest me to be thy wife. Thou dost not know how much this means to a woman. Man has much else; love in his life plays but a little part, and if he should be disappointed, he has his estate, his business, and his friends. He can sail the wide seas, and with his sword carve out for himself a name and fortune. But a woman, if she mistakes the tinsel for pure gold--ah! hers is a wrecked and miserable existence; there is naught but sorrow left for her. I wonder if thou dost realize this, James? That I am putting into thy hands, trustingly and unafraid, my life, my love, my all? Dost thou appreciate the gravity of this step that I am taking? I am afraid that thou dost not, but I will hope, and try to believe that thou wilt come to a future realization of all that this must mean to me, and that thy love will ever be all that thou sayest it is. And so my answer is--yes. Good-night,