The strange expression on Judith's face softened a little. Some good was in the girl. The firm hold she had kept on Jessup's dangerous letter had been maintained as much from reluctance to bring ruin on an innocent man as for her own security. On her way from the gardener's cottage, she had taken a rapid survey of the situation, and for the first time felt the courage of possessed power.
"You are in terrible haste," she said, "as if the paper I have was not enough to win anything you want from Sir Noel."
"But you will not trust me with it. You do not love me well enough for that."
"I loved you well enough to give up my home, my poor old father, my good name with the neighbors, and become the meanest of servants, only to be near you," answered the girl, with deep feeling; "and I love you now, oh God, forgive me! better, better than my own wicked soul, or you never would have seen me again."
"Still you refuse to give me the one scrap of paper that can bring us together," said Storms, reproachfully.
"If I did give it up what would you do with it?"
"Do with it! I will take it to Sir Noel, break down his pride, threaten him with the exposure of his son's crime, and wring the lease I want from him, with enough money beside to keep my wife a lady."
"But what if I take the paper to Sir Noel, and get all these things for myself?"
For an instant Storms was startled, but a single thought restored his self-poise.
"There is one thing Sir Noel could not give you."