round I shall not go on!--He wrangled horribly
with my father over my dowry--he wanted me to have more than either of
my sisters, though one married a Procurator and the other a grandee
of Spain. But my father is a gambler too--oh, such fortunes as are
squandered over the arcade yonder! And so--and so--don't turn, I implore
you--oh, do you begin to see my meaning?"

She broke off sobbing, and it took all his strength to keep his eyes
from her.

"Go on," he said.

"Will you not understand? Oh, I would say anything to save you! You
don't know us Venetians--we're all to be bought for a price. It is
not only the brides who are marketable--sometimes the husbands sell
themselves too. And they think you rich--my father does, and the
others--I don't know why, unless you have shown your money too
freely--and the English are all rich, are they not? And--oh, oh--do you
understand? Oh, I can't bear your eyes!"

She dropped into a chair, her head on her arms, and Tony in a flash was
at her side.

"My poor child, my poor Polixena!" he cried, and wept and clasped her.

"You ARE rich, are you not? You would promise them a ransom?" she
persisted.

"To enable you to marry the Marquess?"

"To enable you to escape from this place. Oh, I hope I may never see
your face again." She fell to weeping once more, and he drew away and
paced the floor in a fever.

Presently she sprang up with a fresh air of resolution, and pointed to a
clock against the wall. "The hour is nearly over. It is quite true that
my father is gone to fetch his chaplain. Oh, I implore you, be warned by
me! There is no other way of escape."

"And if I do as you say--?"

"You are safe! You are free! I stake my life on it."

"And you--you are married to that villain?"

"But I shall have saved you. Tell me your name, that I may say it to
myself when I am alone."

"My name is Anthony. But you must not marry that fellow."

"You forgive me, Anthony? You don't think too badly of me?"

"I say you must not marry that fellow."

She laid a trembling hand on his arm. "Time presses," she adjured him,
"and I warn you there is no other way."

For a moment he had a vision of his mother, sitting very upright, on a
Sunday evening, reading Dr. Tillotson's sermons in the best parlour at
Salem; then he swung round on the girl and caught both her hands in his.
"Yes, there is," he cried, "if you are willing. Polixena, let the priest
come!"

She shrank back from him, white