“And you can ask this of the man you abhor! you can stoop to solicit him whom, of all on earth, you hate the most!”
Still she was silent.
“Well,” said he, after a lengthened pause, “you shall have them. I will restore them to you. I have not got them here,—they are in England,—but I will fetch them. My word on it that I will keep my pledge. I see,” added he, after an interval, in which he expected she would speak, but was still silent,—“I see how little faith you repose in a promise. You cannot spare one word of thanks for what you regard as so uncertain; but I can endure this, for I have borne worse. Once more, then, I swear to you, you shall have your letters back. I will place them myself in your hands, and before witnesses too. Remember that, Loo—before witnesses!” And with these words, uttered with a sort of savage energy, he turned away from her, and was soon lost in the crowd.
“I have followed you this hour, Loo,” said a low voice beside her.
She turned and took the speaker's arm, trembling all over, and scarcely able to keep from falling.
“Take me away, father,—take me away from this,” said she, faintly. “I feel very ill.”
“It was Paten was with you. I could not mistake him,” said Holmes. “What has occurred between you?”
“I will tell you all when I get home,” said she, still speaking faintly. And now they moved through the motley crowd, with sounds of mirth and words of folly making din around them. Strange discrepant accents to fall on hearts as full as theirs! “How glad I am to breathe this fresh cold night air,” cried she, as they gained the street. “It was the heat, the noise, and the confusion overcame me, but I am better now.”
“And how have you parted with him?” asked her father, eagerly.
“With a promise that sounds like a threat,” said she, in a hollow voice. “But you shall hear all.”