ice, "No."

"Did he tell you that you had better take Peter Steinmarc for your
husband?" Linda could not bring herself to answer this, but sat
beating the floor with her foot, and with her face turned away and
her eyes fixed upon the wall. She was no longer sobbing now, but
was hardening herself against her aunt. She was resolving that she
would be a castaway,--that she would have nothing more to do with
godliness, or even with decency. She had found godliness and decency
too heavy to be borne. In all her life, had not that moment in which
Ludovic had held her tight bound by his arm round her waist been
the happiest? Had it not been to her, her one single morsel of real
bliss? She was thinking now whether she would fly round upon her aunt
and astonish her tyrant by a declaration of principles that should be
altogether new. Then came the question again in the same hard voice,
"Did he not tell you that you had better take Peter Steinmarc for
your husband?"

"I won't take Peter Steinmarc for my husband," said Linda; and she
did in part effect that flying round of which she had been thinking.
"I won't take Peter Steinmarc for my husband, let the man say what he
may. How can I marry him if I hate him? He is a--beast."

Then Madame Staubach groaned. Linda had often heard her groan, but
had never known her to groan as she groaned now. It was very deep and
very low, and prolonged with a cadence that caused Linda to tremble
in every limb. And Linda understood it thoroughly. It was as though
her aunt had been told by an angel that Satan was coming to her house
in person that day. And Linda did that which the reader also should
do. She gave to her aunt full credit for pure sincerity in her
feelings. Madame Staubach did believe that Satan was coming for her
niece, if not actually come; he was close at hand, if not arrived.
The crushing, if done at all, must be done instantly, so that Satan
should find the spirit so broken and torn to paltry fragments as not
to be worth his acceptance. She stretched forth her hand and took
hold of her niece. "Linda," she said, "do you ever think of the
bourne to which the wicked ones go;--they who are wicked as you now
are wicked?"

"I cannot help it," said Linda.

"And did he not bid you take this man for your husband?"

"I will not do his bidding, then! It would kill me. Do you not know
that I love Ludovic better than all the world? He is in prison,
but shall I cease to love him for that r