"But I am only a girl--only a silly, flirting girl of sixteen! Oh,
forget and forgive, and let me go!"

"I can not, Mollie, for--I love you!"

"Love me?" Mollie repeated, scorn and anguish in her voice. "Love me,
and torture me like this!"

"It is because I love you. I torture you because you shall be my wife.
Mine, Mollie, mine! Because you would never consent of your own free
will. It goes to my heart to hear you plead; but I love you with my
whole heart and soul, and I can not yield."

"I shall plead no more," said Mollie, proudly, turning away; "your heart
is of stone."

"Will you consent to marry me, Mollie? Remember the terms. One week from
the hour that makes you my wife will see you going forth free, if you
wish it."

"Free! wish it!" she repeated, with unutterable scorn. "Free, and bound
to you! Wish it, when for that privilege I sacrifice myself forever! Oh,
you know well I love my liberty dearly, when I can not lie here and rot
sooner than leave my prison your wife! But, man--demon--whatever you
are," she cried, with a sort of frenzy, "I do consent--I will become
your wife, since my only chance of quitting this horrible dungeon lies
that way!"

If Mollie could have seen the face behind the mask, she would have seen
the red glow of triumph that overspread it at the words; but aloud he