“Oh yes, rather! FitzGerald was in the most awful funk and talked of writing his proposal, but I choked him off, and told him that it was a cowardly way of putting his fate to the touch—the telephone would have been better—and that he must face the music like a man.”
“You wouldn’t be in the least nervous in similar circumstances.”
“No, honestly, I would not, if I believed the girl cared two straws about me. Anyone that wasn’t stone blind could see that Miss Bliss liked FitzGerald; he is a rattling good sort, and I believe they will suit one another splendidly.”
But Shafto had not come to “Heidelberg” to discuss FitzGerald and his affairs; he wanted to talk to Sophy about herself.
“I do wish you would confide in Mrs. Gregory,” he urged. “She is a tower of strength. I don’t think you are strong enough to tackle the situation here.”
“Oh, yes I am,” she answered, rising; “it’s just a question of will-power and holding out. It was good of you to come like this, but now I’m afraid I must send you away. This is the time I always sit with my aunt.” As she spoke she approached nearer to the long glass door and, coming out of the gloom of the drawing-room, he saw by the unsparing light the startling alteration in her appearance; she looked so thin and worn, her eyes so large, her face so small—her whole appearance wilted! When he thought of Mrs. Krauss, with her deadly secret, her vampire hold on this girl; then of Krauss and his secret, he could no longer restrain himself. All those influences which stir the deepest emotions of the heart were silently operating on Shafto’s. His face assumed a set expression and had grown suddenly pale.
“Sophy!” he exclaimed.
The word sent her heart galloping.
“I am sure you know that I—I adore you, but somehow I’ve never ventured to tell you this till now——” He paused, as if the words stuck in his throat, and meanwhile a huge brown insect of the bee tribe entered, booming alarmingly, and knocking itself about the room. “But now I’ve got to speak out and take risks. There is a terrible cloud over this house—a cloud of shame! I know I am saying all this most awfully badly, but I ask you to let me take you away from ‘Heidelberg.’” He broke off abruptly and stood looking into her eyes.
Sophy, no longer pale, returned his gaze steadily. It was not now a question of her aunt’s secret, but of her own future. She cared very much for her companion—why deceive herself?—and with the instinct common to her sex, had been aware of his feelings for a long time. All the same, she could not desert her post. She put up her thin hand (it was trembling, Shafto could see) with the gesture of one who was thrusting aside temptation.