Part 33 (1/2)

”I did not do it for reward,” he murmured, scarcely able to restrain himself.

”I am sure of that,” she a.s.sented. ”But you once hinted, or at any rate led me to believe, that I could repay you.”

There could be no pretence of ignoring her meaning now. Still he felt that chivalry forbade his acceptance.

”I was wrong,” he replied with an effort, ”and most unfair if I suggested a bargain.”

”Have you repented the suggestion?” she asked almost quizzingly and with a curious absence of her characteristic pride.

”Only in a sense,” he answered. ”I hope I am too honourable to take an unfair advantage.”

She laughed now; joyously, it seemed. ”If your scruples are so strong there will be nothing for it but for me to throw away mine and offer myself to you.”

”Edith,” he exclaimed in a flash of rapture, then, checked the pa.s.sionate impulse to take her in his arms. ”You must not; not now, not now. It is not fair to yourself. At the moment of your release from this horrible danger you cannot be master of yourself. You must not mistake grat.i.tude for love.”

Edith drew back with a touch of resentful pride.

”If you think I don't know my own mind--” she began.

”Does any one know his own mind at such a crisis as you have just pa.s.sed through?” he said, a little wistfully. ”Edith,” he went on as he took her unresisting hand, ”you must not be offended with me. Think. The whole object of what I have done for you has been to set you free, as free as though you had woke up to find the episode of these Henshaws had been no more than a horrible dream. You must be free, you must realize and enjoy your freedom. You are now relieved from the crus.h.i.+ng weight you have borne so long; the release must be untouched by the shadow of a bargain expressed or implied. That is the only way in which a man of honour can regard the position.”

”Very well,” she returned simply, ”I understand. I am sorry for my mistake.”

Her manner shook his resolution. ”I can't think you understand,” he replied forcibly. ”I only ask, in fairness to yourself, for time. Don't think that I am not desperately in love with you. You must have seen it, ever since our first confidential talk, that night at the Stograve dance.

And my love has gone on increasing every day till--oh, you don't know how cruelly hard it is to resist taking you at your word. But I can't, I simply can't s.n.a.t.c.h at an unfair advantage, however great the temptation.

I must give you time, time to know your own heart when the nightmare shall have pa.s.sed away. I propose to return to town as soon as this man Henshaw has cleared out of the neighbourhood. Will you let us be as we are for a month, Edith, and if then you are of the same mind, send me a line and I will come to you by the first train. Is not that only fair?”

She gave a little sigh of contentment. ”Very well,” she said, ”if that will satisfy you.”