"I had a visitor last night," he said, when they were outside the cave.
"I know. It was one of the half-castes."
"It was the one who would go to perdition for me if I bade him—Pompo. If Pompo had been a woman he—or she—would have died for love of me. Why can't I make you love me? Why can't I magnetize you with my eyes, with my voice? Look at me, Elsie."
She did look at him. His eyes frightened her, and she averted her own. They had certainly a magnetic quality.
"I believe I could magnetize you if you would only look at me. Love me, Elsie; what is the use of holding out? I tell you that by fair means or foul, by gentleness or force, I mean to have you for my own."
"You will not," she said, "for I will kill myself first."
"No, you will think better of it. And, besides, you have nothing to kill yourself with now that I have taken your pistol from you. And I am so strong—so strong. I could crush you; I could seize and break you in two. How are you going to withstand me?"
He put his arms round her, as he spoke, and held her facing him as in a vice, not attempting to kiss her, but simply looking at her with a smile that terrified her. Then for the first time her courage failed her. She besought him; she pleaded with him; she appealed to his honour, to his manliness, to his love for her to let her go free. She would take any oath he chose to impose upon her; she would never betray him; she would thank him from the bottom of her heart; she would pray for him; she would always be his friend. Only would he have mercy on her and let her go back to Ina and Horace.
"Lord Horace is dead," he said, with brutal suddenness.
She thought he was jesting. He told her the story circumstantially, as he had heard it from Pompo. The funeral had taken place the day before. Lady Horace, between the loss of her husband and that of her sister, was distracted. Mrs. Allanby was distracted also, and had made a scandal; Trant seemed to gloat over the details. As for Elsie, the
