As soon as we were alone she threw off all reserve, putting her hands on my shoulders and gazing at me with glowing eyes.
“Do you press me to do this?” she pleaded.
“I must; it is your only hope of safety, and a desperate one at the best.”
“You love me—Gerald?”
At the sound of my name, spoken prettily in tremulous hesitation, I felt the blood rush to my face.
“With my whole heart,” I cried hoarsely.
“Do not send me from you, then; I urge you, by our love. Let us face what has to come together. I could meet death with you, but without you I am a coward. I cannot go.”
“You must go, Christina,” I said in a low voice, and scarcely steadier than her own.
“It is sending you to death, Gerald. I cannot do it. I could not live if harm came to you through me.”
“No such harm as that can come. But, for God’s sake, think. If we remain together now it can be but for a few minutes. If we fell into these men’s hands, their first act would be to separate us. You must go, my darling, you must.”