m your own lips, Edith, that you
will not leave this man."

"If you have ears you have heard it."

"You are, as you have said, a free woman, and who can gainsay you? But
I have known you, Edith, since we played as boy and girl on the
heather-hills together. I will save you from this man's cunning and from
your own foolish weakness."

"What would you do?"

"There is a priest without. He will marry you now. I will see you
married ere I leave this hall."

"Or else?" sneered the man.

"Or else you never leave this hall alive. Nay, call not for your
servants or your dogs! By Saint Paul! I swear to you that this matter
lies between us three, and that if any fourth comes at your call you,
at least, shall never live to see what comes of it! Speak then, Paul of
Shalford! Will you wed this woman now, or will you not?"

Edith was on her feet with outstretched arms between them. "Stand back,
Nigel! He is small and weak. You would not do him a hurt! Did you not
say so this very day? For God's sake, Nigel, do not look at him so!
There is death in your eyes."

"A snake may be small and weak, Edith, yet every honest man would place
his heel upon it. Do you stand back yourself, for my purpose is set."

"Paul!" she turned her eyes to the pale sneering face. "Bethink you,
Paul! Why should you not do what he asks? What matter to you whether it
be now or on Monday? I pray you, dear Paul, for my sake let him have his
way! Your brother can read the service again if it so please him. Let us
wed now, Paul, and then all is well."

He had risen from his chair, and he dashed aside her appealing hands.
"You foolish woman," he snarled, "and you, my savior of fair damsels,
who are so bold against a cripple, you have both to learn that if my
body be weak there is the soul of my breed within it! To marry because
a boasting, ranting, country Squire would have me do so--no, by the soul
of God, I will die first! On Monday I will marry, and no day sooner, so
let that be your answer."

"It is the answer that I wished," said Nigel, "for indeed I see no
happiness in this marriage, and the other may well be the better way.
Stand aside, Edith!" He gently forced her to one side and drew his
sword.

De la Fosse cried aloud at the sight. "I have no sword. You would not
murder me?" said he, leaning back with haggard-face and burning eyes
against his chair. The bright steel shone in the lamp-light. Edith
shrank back, her hand over her face.

"Take