She
realised that for the moment she was helpless, that her captor was on
his guard, but an opportunity might come presently. The more she
appeared to accept the situation, the less watch was he likely to keep
on her. It was a natural argument, perhaps, but far removed from fact.
Never for an instant did Lord Rosmore cease to watch her. This time he
meant to bend her to his will, if not one way, then another; fair means
had failed, therefore he would use foul. For a long while he was silent,
and then he began to explain why he had acted as he had done. Again he
showed her how impossible a lover was Gilbert Crosby, and he painted the
many crimes of a highwayman in lurid colours. He knew she must have
thought of these things, and he declared that the day would come when
she would thank him for what he had done to-night.
Barbara did not answer him, and there was a long silence as the coach
rolled steadily on.
Then Lord Rosmore ventured to excuse himself. He spoke passionately of
his love for her. His way with women was notorious; seldom had he loved
in vain, and women whose ears had refused to listen to all other lovers
had fallen before his temptations; yet never had woman heard such
burning words as he spoke in the darkness of the coach to Barbara
Lanison.
Pages:
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405