here to ask you to marry me. Mind, I say to
marry me! What do you think of it?"

The girl drew back hurriedly.

"I think you might have guessed what my answer would have been, and thus
saved yourself."

Again his face darkened, and an angry fire leaped into his eyes; but he
controlled himself by a great effort.

"Why do you refuse me?" he asked. "I am a big catch, especially for a
girl like you. Come, I have taken a notion to you, Bernardine, and
that's saying a good deal."

"Spare yourself the trouble of uttering another word, Mr. Wilde," she
said, with dignity. "I would not, I could not marry you under any
circumstances. It is as well for you to know that."

"So you think now; but I fancy we can change all that; can't we, Moore?"

The old basket-maker's lips moved, but no sound came from them; the
terror in his eyes became more apparent with each moment.

"I will never change my decision," said Bernardine.

Jasper Wilde drew his chair up nearer to the girl.

"Listen to me, Bernardine," he said. "You shall marry me, by all the
gods above and all the demons below! I have never been thwarted in any
wish or desire of my life. I shall not be thwarted in this!"

"You would not wish me to marry you against my will?" said the girl.

"That would make little difference to me," he rejoined. "You will like
me well enough after you marry me; so never fear about that."

"I do not propose to marry you," replied Bernardine, rising haughtily
from her seat. "While I thank you for the honor you have paid me, I
repeat that I could never marry you."

"And I say that you shall, girl, and that, too, within a month from
to-day," cried the other, in a rage.

"Oh, Bernardine, say 'Yes!'" cried the old man, trembling like an aspen
leaf.

"I have never gone contrary to your wishes, father, in all my life," she
said; "but in this instance, where my interests are so deeply
concerned, I do feel that I must decide for myself."

With a horrible laugh, Jasper Wilde quitted the room, banging the door
after him.

With a lingering look at the beautiful young face, her father bid her
good-night, and with faltering steps quitted the little sitting-room and
sought his own apartment. A little later, Bernardine was startled to
hear him moaning and sobbing as though he were in great pain.

"Are you ill, father?--can I do anything for you?" she called, going
quickly to his door and knocking gently.

"No," he answered in a smothered voic