"He is a cowardly, contemptible tyrant, and you are a vile, lost
creature and fool! But that is not what I wanted to say. As soon as
he comes, tell him I wish to see him."

"Very well, miss."

Sarah departed. The long hours dragged on--oh, so long!--oh, so long!
Mollie could take no breakfast that morning. She could only walk up and
down her prison-chamber in a frenzy of impatience for the coming of the
man she hated.

He came at last--cloaked and masked, and wearing the false hair and
beard--utterly unrecognizable.

"At last, Miss Dane," he calmly said, "you have sent for me. You are
tired of your prison? You long for freedom? You accede to my terms?"

"Yes," said Mollie, with a sort of sobbing cry, for she felt utterly
broken down. "Anything, anything under heaven for freedom! Another week
like this, and I should go mad! But, oh! if you are a man--if you have
any pity in your heart--don't ask this sacrifice! Let me go as I am!
See, I plead to you!--I, who never pleaded to mortal before! Let me go,
for pity's sake, now, as I came! Don't, don't, don't ask me to marry
you!"

She held up her clasped hands--bright tears standing in her passionate
eyes. But the tall, masked man loomed up like a dark, stern ghost.

"You were merciless to me, Mollie Dane."