le! For lo, you yourself, Froeken Thelma," Dyceworthy
started, "you yourself came hither unto my dwelling, a woman all
unprotected, to a man equally unprotected,--and who, though a humble
minister of saving grace, is not proof against the offered surrender of
your charms! Make the best of it, my sweet girl!--make the best of it!
You can never undo what you have done to-night."

"Coward! . . . coward!" and Thelma's rich low voice caused Pierre to
almost leap forward from the place where he stood concealed.
"You,--_you_ made me come here--_you_ sent me that card--_you_ dared to
use the name of my betrothed husband, to gain your vile purpose! _You_
have kept me locked in this room all these hours--and do you think you
will not be punished? I will let the whole village know of your
treachery and falsehood!"

Mr. Dyceworthy laughed gently. "Dear me, dear me!" he remarked sweetly.
"How pretty we look in a passion, to be sure! And we talk of our
'betrothed husband' do we? Tut-tut! Put that dream out of your mind, my
dear girl--Sir Philip Bruce-Errington will have nothing to do with you
after your little escapade of to-night! Your honor is touched!--yes,
yes! and honor is everything to such a man as he. As for the 'card' you
talk about, I never sent a card--not I!" Mr. Dyceworthy made this
assertion in a tone of injured honesty. "Why should I! No--no! You came
here of your own accord,--that is certain and--" here he spoke more
slowly and with a certain malicious glee, "I shall have no difficulty in
proving it to be so, should the young man Errington ask me for an
explanation! Now you had better give me a kiss and make the peace!
There's not a soul in the place who will believe anything you say
against me; _you_, a reputed witch, and I, a minister of the Gospel. For
your father I care nothing, a poor sinful pagan can never injure a
servant of the Lord. Come now, let me have that kiss! I have been very
patient--I am sure I deserve it!"

There was a sudden rushing movement in the room, and a slight cry.

"If you touch me!" cried Thelma, "I will kill you! I will! God will help
me!"

Again Mr. Dyceworthy laughed sneeringly. "God will help you!" he
exclaimed as though in wonder. "As if God ever helped a _Roman_! Froeken
Thelma, be sensible. By your strange visit to me to-night you have
ruined your already damaged character--I say you have ruined it,--and if
anything remains to be said against you, I can say it--moreover, I
_wil