DEFIANCE.
Well might Dora Dupont cry out, for she recognized in the handsome face
and form of the man who stood beneath that arched entrance, her rejected
suitor and enemy, Ralph Moulton.
Utterly overcome by his sudden and unwelcome presence, her trembling
limbs refused to support her, and she sank weak and faint upon a sofa
which stood behind her.
A look of intense love, followed by one of triumph, flashed over his
dark, fine face, as his gaze fell upon the lovely girl before him.
Madame Alroyd, who had half risen as he entered, now sank into her seat
again, exclaiming:
“Mr. Moulton! and here too!”
“Yes, madam,” he replied, with a smile and a graceful bow; “and I trust
that I find you well this morning.” Then turning composedly to Dora, he
added: “Miss Dora, allow me to congratulate you upon your fine looks,
although I perceive that traveling has robbed you of some of your former
bloom.”
He seated himself carelessly, though his restless eyes devoured every
expression of her marble face.
She had by this time recovered her self-possession somewhat, and rising
with proud hauteur, she said, in icy tones:
“To what circumstance am I to attribute this untimely visit, Mr.
Moulton? It was my desire to have an interview with the chief of this
place. I am now awaiting his presence.”
“The chief you will not see this morning, Miss Dupont; and you are to
attribute this visit from me to your own fair self, and the love I bear
you.”
She waved her hand with a gesture of scornful impatience and said:
“That subject was long since forbidden between us.”
“Nay, my fair one, I could not receive your cruel answer as final; and
if you remember right, you know I told you that I should at some future
time renew my suit. And I am here this morning to plead again, that you
will consent to be my wife. Madam, have I your permission to address
your niece?” he said, turning quickly to Dora’s aunt.
“It must be as she says, Mr. Moulton. I trust all such matters to her
own heart and judgment,” she returned, coldly.
“Very well, then to her I will appeal,” turning to our heroine again.
“How came you in this place, sir?” she demanded.
“Why, I came here the same as I would go anywhere, but my object was to
meet you.”
“Ah! perhaps Mr. Moulton has something to do with our captivity here,”
said Dora, shooting a wicked glance at him from her flashing eyes.
“Possibly he may have,” he returned, with a smile and a bow.
“Thank you, sir; you are very kind. You have taken a load from my mind,”
she answered, in a relieved tone.
“How so?” he asked, surprised.
“I feared I had been brought here by a set of lawless robbers, and that
my honor would be the sacrifice; but, I assure you, I fear no such
craven as yourself,” she said, in a voice of intense sarcasm.
He colored angrily at the scorn and irony which her look and tone
betrayed, and replied:
“I did not come here to be scorned and abused, Miss Dupont. I came to
offer you marriage, honorable and true, together with a heart as
faithful as ever beat in the breast of one mortal for another. In a
word, I have come to ask you to be my wife!”
Dora stood in a graceful attitude, her pretty head raised just a trifle
more than was natural, her little hands coquettishly clasped before her,
and one tiny blue velvet slipper peeping out from beneath her white
robe, while her eyes were fixed in a cold, unflinching gaze upon his
own.
She did not reply, as he ceased speaking, but stood calmly regarding
him, as if waiting for him to continue.
His eyes wavered, and finally drooped, and he said, while he moved
uneasily in his chair:
“Do you understand my proposition, Miss Dupont?”
“I do, sir!”
“And do you accept it?”
“I do not, sir!”
“Do I understand that you refuse me a second time?”
“Utterly and forever!” she answered, without once changing her position,
or removing her eyes from his face.
“Dora——”
“Allow me to correct you, sir. My name is Miss Dupont.”
“I warn you not to exasperate me beyond endurance,” he returned,
angrily.
Just the least little bit of a sneer curled her red lips at this threat,
but he saw it, and said, with sudden determination:
“I will give you five minutes in which to reconsider your answer, after
which, if it is not favorable, I shall not hesitate to take the matter
into my own hands. Possibly you remember the oath I took in your
presence the night of your birthday entertainment.”
He uttered these last words in a meaning tone, at the same time taking
an elegant gold watch from his pocket to note the time.
She did remember the oath he referred to, and she grew a shade paler,
but by no other sign did she show that she felt or noticed his words,
and remained standing in the same cold, calm attitude during the whole
five minutes.
“Miss Dupont, your time is up!” at length said Ralph Moulton, in a
gentler voice than he had hitherto used.
He thought he really and truly loved this beautiful creature, and his
heart softened toward her a little, for he knew she suffered in spite of
her apparent indifference.
She made no reply, nor moved a muscle.
He regarded her in perplexity for a moment, then arose and went and
stood before her.
“Will you be my wife?”
“No, sir!”
“Beware! Do you mean it?”
“Most emphatically! And now, if you are done with your persecution, I
can dispense with your society.”
“By heavens, I won’t bear this! I have sworn that you shall be mine, and
I will not give you up!” he exclaimed, excitedly. Then turning to Madame
Alroyd, he continued, “Madam, will you not use your influence before it
is too late. Her fate is in my hands, but I have no desire to use my
power, if by any possible means she can be induced to yield willingly.”
Madam cast an appealing glance at Dora; but there was no encouragement
to be gathered from her inflexible features, and with a bitter sigh she
remained silent.
Cursing both of them in his heart, Ralph bent toward Dora, and said in a
low, concentrated voice:
“Listen! This evening you are to become my wife. Everything is arranged,
and at seven o’clock the clergyman will be present to perform the
ceremony. Nothing can save you; your fate is sealed.”
He had no reason to complain of her want of animation now, for instantly
neck, cheek, and brow were flooded with an angry crimson, and with a
gesture of intense loathing she cried:
“You dare not do this thing! I will defy you at the very altar, and no
clergyman will pronounce the banns against my will.”
“My darling, you will do no such thing; it would be very improper,” he
laughed, lightly, glorying in her proud, brilliant beauty.
“Villain, you shall see,” she retorted, snapping her small pearly teeth
savagely together.
“Shall I, my beautiful one? Very well, I shall come for you a little
before the time; and in the meantime some suitable attire shall be
provided for you. I would not have my bride disgrace the occasion, for
we are to have a ‘gay company’ at our wedding.”
“I will die first!” she said, passionately.
“You see that lady sitting there—your only friend—your benefactress?
Well, the moment you attempt your life, she dies. And should you refuse
to be my wife when we come before the clergyman, she will be instantly
shot by a concealed foe. I told you truly when I said your fate was
sealed. Will you defy me now?”
“Oh, merciful Heaven! I am lost—lost!” shrieked the miserable girl, in a
heart-rending voice, as she sank back half fainting upon her seat.
Madame Alroyd sprang frantically forward, and clasping her convulsively
in her arms, cried out:
“No, no, my precious darling, it shall not be! You shall not sacrifice
your life and happiness for such an old and worthless thing as I. You
shall defy him at the very altar.”
Then turning with a sort of scornful majesty to Ralph, she added:
“You can have my life and welcome, but you must spare this poor stricken
child. She shall never be your wife!”
“And do you think, madam, she would be allowed to escape me, even if
your life were sacrificed? No, I want her, not you. I have sworn that
mine she shall be, and nothing can turn me aside from the accomplishment
of my oath. So prepare yourselves to carry out gracefully the plan for
this evening.”
With these heartless words Ralph Moulton turned and disappeared from the
room.
“Oh, merciful Father! sustain me in this trying hour,” moaned the
fainting girl, as she sank unconscious to the floor.
For hours she lay in this blessed stupor, and only revived to be arrayed
for her bridal.