with you in this hysterical state. Now, bind his mouth, Sarah. There!
I think that will do."

Bound hands, and eyes, and mouth, half suffocated, wholly blinded, the
Reverend Raymond Rashleigh was a pitiable object at that instant. But
there was no one to pity him, no one to see him, no one to help him.

The carriage whirled on, and on, and on at dizzy speed, the wind sighing
by in long, lamentable gales, the rain dashing clamorously against the
closed glass.

Paralyzed with intense terror, Mr. Rashleigh sat trembling to that
extent that he threatened to topple off his seat.

"Pray calm yourself, my reverend friend," said that masculine voice
beside him. "No personal harm is intended you, and I have no designs
upon your watch and purse. I merely want the loan of you in your
clerical capacity, to perform the ceremony of marriage over a runaway
couple. I knew you wouldn't come of your own free will; therefore, I
took the trouble to ascertain about those little expectations of yours
from Mrs. Holywell, and used that good lady, whose health, I trust, is
no worse than usual, as a cat's-paw. You must pardon the deception, dear
sir, and you must perform the marriage ceremony without inconvenient
scruples, or hesitation, or questions. Be thankful, for the sake of
morality, we see the propriety of getting married at all. You are
listening to me and paying attention to me, I hope?"

Paying attention! Yes, his whole soul was absorbed in listening.

"Where I take you, who I am, you will never find out. Don't try, my dear