I swear that, too.

But not to-night, Nat--not to-night." He stood a pace away and rubbed his hands.
"There will be no chance to-night, Nat--but to-morrow night, or the next.

O, I promise you shall meet her, and make love to her, Nat! Ho, if Strang knew, if Strang _only_ knew!" There was something so fiendishly gloating in the councilor's attitude, in his face, in the hot glow of his eyes, that for a moment Nathaniel's involuntary liking for the little old man before him turned to abhorrence.

The passion, the triumph of the man, convinced him where words had failed.

The girl was Strang's wife.