"It is very late."
With sudden terror she cried, "You will not leave me, Gerald? You will not desert me?"
"No, indeed. Do not be afraid. I am yours forever, in truth and honor. But we must be prudent."
"I will do whatever you bid me, Gerald. I have no friend in the world but you."
In his honor and honesty lay her safety. Well was it for her that she had by her side a man like Gerald.
"Where did you live before you went to Mrs. Seaton?" She shuddered at the name, and answered, "In Grafton Street," and mentioned the number.
They were nearly a mile from the house, and in Emilia's weak state it took them more than half an hour to get there, but weak as she was she did not complain of fatigue. She was content so long as Gerald was with her. There was no cessation in the rain, which still fell steadily.
There was not a light to be seen in any of the windows of the house. Gerald knocked, but knocked in vain. In despair he turned away, and Emilia walked patiently with him.
Then it forced itself upon him that there was still the alternative of endeavoring to obtain a room for her in a respectable hotel. To conduct her to one of doubtful repute was not to be thought of. It was close on midnight when they reached the hotel he had in his mind. He did not venture to take her inside the building with him. Her swollen eyes, her death-white face, her dishevelled hair, her clothes soaked with rain, would have ensured failure. Besides, until he was sure of a shelter for her, he did not care to expose her to the prying eyes of strangers.
He explained to her what he was about to do, but he was doubtful whether she quite understood him. All she said was: