"So you're engaged to that fatherly friend of yours,
that pious sneak, that deadly foe to me?"
"Unhand me, sir!"
"Not yet," he answered, tightening his grasp, and at the same time taking
a pistol from his pocket. "I swear you shall never marry that man: promise
me on your oath that you'll not, or--I'll shoot you through the heart; the
heart that's turned false to me. D'ye hear," and he held the muzzle of his
piece within a foot of her breast.
Every trace of color fled from her face, but she stood like a marble
statue, without speech or motion of a muscle, her eyes looking straight
into his with firm defiance.
"Do you hear?" he repeated, in a tone of exasperation, "speak! promise
that you'll never marry Travilla, or I'll shoot you in three
minutes--shoot you down dead on the spot, if I swing for it before night."
"That will be as God pleases," she answered low and reverently; "you can
have no power at all against me except it be given you from above."
"I can't, hey? looks like it; I've only to touch the trigger here, and
your soul's out o' your body. Better promise than die."
Still she stood looking him unflinchingly in the eye; not a muscle moving,
no sign of fear except that deadly pallor.
"Well," lowering his piece, "you're a brave girl, and I haven't the heart
to do it," he exclaimed in admiration.
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