“I understand,” I answered calmly, although within my heart a very hell was raging.  “But tell me, mynheer, has Marie affianced herself—­or perhaps she will answer with her own lips?”

“Yes, Allan,” replied Marie in her quiet fashion, “I have affianced myself—­to you and no other man.”

“You hear, mynheer,” I said to Marais.

Then he broke out in his usual excitable manner.  He stormed, he argued, he rated us both.  He said that he would never allow it; that first he would see his daughter in her grave.  That I had abused his confidence and violated his hospitality; that he would shoot me if I came near his girl.  That she was a minor, and according to the law he could dispose of her in marriage.  That she must accompany him whither he was going; that certainly I should not do so, and much more of the same sort.

When at last he had tired himself out and smashed his favourite pipe upon the table, Marie spoke, saying: 

“My father, you know that I love you dearly, for since my mother’s death we have been everything to each other, have we not?”

“Surely, Marie, you are my life, and more than my life.”

“Very well, my father.  That being so, I acknowledge your authority over me, whatever the law may say.  I acknowledge that you have the right to forbid me to marry Allan, and if you do forbid me—­while I am under age, at any rate—­I shall not marry him because of my duty to you.  But”—­here she rose and looked him full in the eyes, and oh! how stately she seemed at that moment in her simple strength and youthful grace!—­“there is one thing, my father, that I do not acknowledge—­your right to force me to marry any other man.  As a woman with power over herself, I deny that right; and much as it pains me, my father, to refuse you anything, I say that first I will die.  To Allan here I have given myself for good or for evil, and if I may not marry Allan, I will go to the grave unwed.  If my words hurt you, I pray you to pardon me, but at the same time to remember that they are my words, which cannot be altered.”

Marais looked at his daughter, and his daughter looked at Marais.  At first I thought that he was about to curse her; but if this were so, something in her eyes seemed to change his mind, for all he said was: 

“Intractable, like the rest of your race!  Well, Fate may lead those who cannot be driven, and this matter I leave in the hands of Fate.  While you are under age—­that is, for two years or more—­you may not marry without my consent, and have just promised not to do so.  Presently we trek from this country into far-off lands.  Who knows what may happen there?”