Under no other circumstances than these would Gerald have dreamed of taking Emilia to his house, but he was driven to a course of which he inwardly disapproved. He had no time now to consider consequences; Emilia demanded all his attention. She was still unconscious when they arrived at the house, and he was compelled to ask the assistance of the driver to carry her in. This being accomplished, he paid the man liberally and dismissed him.
They had entered without being observed; the housekeeper and the maid occupied rooms below, and Gerald supposed them to be both asleep at the time. The room into which Emilia had been carried was his favorite apartment, on the ground floor, and was somewhat daintily furnished. From a sideboard he took wine and biscuits, and from an inner room he brought towels and a basin of cold water. The fire in the grate had burned low, but he threw wood and coals on it, and it was soon in a bright blaze. Then he drew the sofa upon which Emilia was lying close to the fireplace, and stood debating with himself what he should do. Had the housekeeper been the only servant in the house he would have called her in to attend to Emilia; she had been many years in the service of his family, and he thought he could trust her; but he was sure he could not trust the maid, who was an inveterate chatterbox. Before he had decided what to do Emilia revived; struggling to her feet she gazed around in stupefaction. In as few words as possible Gerald explained what had occurred; she listened to him in silence, then sank upon the couch, and burst into a passion of tears.
"Are you angry with me, Emilia?" he asked, in deep concern. "I could do nothing else. To have kept you in the streets any longer would have been your death. Listen to the rain; it is coming down harder than ever. Here at least you are safe for a few hours. The housekeeper is asleep down-stairs. I will call her up if you wish, but there is another servant who cannot be trusted, I fear."
"If anyone sees me here I shall die of shame," said Emilia, in a low tone. "What will become of me--oh, what will become of me?"
"There is nothing to fear," said Gerald, "and no one need be aware that you are in the house. Do you not know already that I love you with all my heart and soul, and that by consenting to become my wife you will make me the happiest man in the world? The position in which we are placed has been forced upon us. No one shall have the power of placing an evil construction upon it. I will see to that. Your happiness, your honor, are in my keeping. Can you not trust me, Emilia?"
With these and other words as true and tender, he succeeded in calming her. With innate delicacy he did not press her to answer him at such an hour; he would wait till to-morrow; meanwhile he explained his plan to her. She was to occupy the room till the morning, and to lock herself in. He would find a bed elsewhere. Before the servants rose he would return to the house and make a confidant of the housekeeper; the younger servant should be sent upon a distant errand which would keep her from the house till eleven or twelve o'clock. Before that time Emilia would be settled elsewhere. Thus the secret would be preserved and the tongue of scandal silenced.
"And then, Emilia," he said, gazing upon her with ardent affection, "I will ask for my reward."
It was impossible, even if her heart were not already his, that she should fail to be touched by his delicacy and devotion. Tenderly and humbly she thanked him, and intended to say that she would give him his answer on the morrow, but love broke down the barrier of reserve. Involuntarily she held out her hands to him, and he clasped her in his arms and kissed her on her lips, and said that the embrace was a pledge of truth and constancy.
"From you, Emilia, as well as from me!"
"Yes, Gerald," she sighed; "I love you!"