'Don't you think that you would have had some perception of it last night if I had been entirely unworthy?
Think what an utter and abominable villain I must be to have accepted your hospitality--to have been so very happy with you----' So he went on appealing to her heart from the sentiments that arose in his own.
Madge listened only for a reasonable period; she rose to her feet.

'I must go,' she said.
He found that she proposed to walk on snow-shoes three miles to the nearest house, which belonged to a couple of parish priests, where she would be certain of obtaining a messenger to carry the news of the robbery to the telegraph station.

She could not be brought even to discuss the advisability of her journey; Morin could not be sent, for the servants and Eliz would go mad with terror if left alone.
To Courthope's imagination her journey seemed to be an abandonment of herself to the utmost danger.

If between the two houses she failed to make progress over high drifts and against a heavy gale, what was to hinder her from perishing?
Then, too, there was that villain, who had seemed to stalk forth from the isolated house afar into the howling night as easily as the Frankenstein demon, and might even now be skulking near--a dangerous devil--able to run where others must trudge toilsomely.
Madge, it seemed, had only come to that room to make her confession and invoke protection at the shrine of the lost father; she was ready to set forth without further delay.

She would not, in spite of his most eloquent pleading, set Courthope at liberty to make of him either messenger or companion.
'The evidence,' she said sadly, 'is all against you.