course. I will not say another word about my wishes; till you come to me, of your own accord, and say that you will be mine. There! I promise you that. I will not force you any further; but I will not allow you to leave my house. There you must remain till you come to me and bid me take you, till you come and give yourself freely into my hands. Do you hear me. Glory?"
"Mehalah, save me," pleaded Mrs. Sharland. "Do what you can to save me from prison. Did I not lay by for you when I was a widow and needy? And will you refuse me this?
"One thing or another," said Rebow. "Either your mother rots in prison, with no escape possible till she goes out to her grave in a pauper's shell, or you and she return at once to Red Hall, on the same conditions as you have been there hitherto, on the conditions you proposed yourself."
Mehalah trembled.
"Let us go back," said Mrs. Sharland. "Help me into the boat. He couldn't have spoken more fair. You see, Mehalah, the Ray house is a great loss to him, and he gave eight hundred pounds for it."
"And the marshes, and the saltings, and for you and Glory, and all things," put in Rebow.
Mehalah held out her arms. Her head swam: she stood as though balancing herself on a high wall. Then she clasped her hands over her forehead, and burst into a storm of tears.
"Jim!" said Elijah, "get the old doll into the stern, and you row her back to Red Hall. Take her under your arm and chuck her in anyhow."
He looked at the convulsed girl with an ugly smile of triumph.
"Give me the warrant, bailiff!" He took the paper, held it under Mehalah's eyes and tore it to pieces, and scattered them over the water.
"Shove off, Jim. Row the old bundle back quick. Glory and I are going to drive home."
Mehalah looked up, with a gasp as though stung.
"Yes, Glory! To-day is Valentine's Day. Valentine's Day it is, I have my little gig here. It accommodates
