"I want you, and I mean to marry you; you are more to me than all the
world. I can give you everything, and you had better yield to me, and
you shall hear no more of this. But if you won't, then this is what I
will do. I will be revenged upon you--terribly revenged."
Beatrice shook her head and smiled again, as though to bid him do his
worst.
"And look, Beatrice," he went on, waxing almost eloquent in his jealous
despair, "I have another argument to urge on you. I will not only be
revenged on you, I will be revenged upon your lover--on this Geoffrey
Bingham."
"_Oh!_" said Beatrice sharply, like one in pain. He had found the way
to move her now, and with the cunning of semi-madness he drove the point
home.
"Yes, you may start--I will. I tell you that I will never rest till I
have ruined him, and I am rich and can do it. I have a hundred thousand
pounds, that I will spend on doing it. I have nothing to fear, except
an action for libel. Oh, I am not a fool, though you think I am, I know.
Well, I can pay for a dozen actions. There are papers in London that
will be glad to publish all this--yes, the whole story--with plans
and pictures too.
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