"Spare me this added shame, my lord," Gabrielle broke in, her voice vibrating and her eyes flaming with indignation.
"Shame!" he repeated, with an angry start.
"What is it but shame, the wrong you would do to the purest and sweetest wife man ever had; what else but shame that you should offer to prostrate your government to your own purposes; what but foulest shame that almost within hearing of the woman you would thus wrong you seek to pollute my ears with this infamous profession? If there be a spark of manhood in you, kindle it till it light up your soul sufficiently to save you and me from this unholy degradation."
"Your passion but whets my love, Gabrielle. I am not a man to be set aside from a purpose once formed. My purpose is now set—you shall be my wife; and neither man nor devil nor God shall turn me."
"I have but one word, then. I hold your offer to be vile and degrading, and I would rather die than falter for an instant in repudiating it."
"You will not turn me," he repeated. "I have offered you my love—a love that burns in me as a consuming fire—and you think to put it aside with indignation and contempt. But there are other emotions fighting for me than love. And fear is one of them."
"I do not fear your lordship," flashed Gabrielle, with lofty pride.
"Yet there is none in Morvaix to protect you from me."
"My cousin Gerard"
"He has fled the city, like the craven, guilty, worthless wretch he is," he answered contemptuously.
"It is not true, my lord. He is here in your castle. He came with me, foreseeing more clearly than I the purpose with which you brought me here. He came for my protection. And he is no craven guilty wretch as
