The words had scarcely escaped her lips when she realized her indiscretion, and faltered, “I—I—mean—” and then unable to recover from her sudden flight of passion, or to completely subdue her agitation, she burst out aloud, in utter disregard of her surroundings, “Oh! It is awful, awful!”
Rutley was alarmed, and hastily gripped her wrist, and in low tones cautioned, “For God’s sake, hush! Don’t shout it to the winds! Remember, you urged this damnable business upon me. Do you want me to give it to the world?”
His artifice succeeded, and under his influence she became quieter. “No! No! No!” she whispered. “Don’t, please!” Then again she stared at the ground as though dazed with some vague terror. Suddenly she covered her face with her hands and moaned, “What have I done?”
Then, arising from a place of concealment close by, the old Italian Cripple previously mentioned doffed his hat and said, “Eesa da bet, much-a keep-a do mon! Do poor old-a man, Eesa beg-a da mon, a da charity Signora, Signor.”
Tossing him a coin, Rutley said, “This is an unseasonable place for your calling, old man.” Then, turning to Virginia—“Permit me to escort you to the house.”
“I don’t like that old man,” she replied. “He is prying about everywhere. Do you think he heard me?”
“I have no fear of that,” replied Rutley, as they moved on toward the house. “He appears quite old and no doubt is partially deaf.”
“Very well,” responded Virginia, “and now that we understand each other, I think it time for me to mingle with the guests.”
As they disappeared in the distance, the old cripple followed them, flitting from shadow to shadow, with catlike agility, astonishing in such an apparently old man.
Having arrived at the piazza steps, Rutley and Virginia parted.