“Calm yourself, madam; calm yourself,” began Travers Gladwin, as he stepped between her and her niece.
“And who are you, pray?” asked the majestic woman, haughtily.
“I am to blame for it all,” he cried. “I am Travers Gladwin.”
“What! You are Travers Gladwin! You are the wretch who sought to steal off in the dead of night with my niece and ward. You! You!”
Mrs. Burton looked unutterable threats and maledictions. 282 Travers Gladwin could not resist a smile, which he hid by bowing low and stammering:
“I must humbly confess to being myself and plead guilty of the crime of falling passionately in love with your niece. I”–––
Helen rose quickly to her feet and confronted her aunt. There was fire in the young girl’s eye as she said:
“Aunt Ella, it is all a mistake, this”–––
“Now, Helen,” Gladwin turned and took the young girl’s hand, “please let me explain. You promised.”
“She promised what?” flared Mrs. Burton.