If pride had not held back her tears she would have cried. It would be a wonderful comfort to cry—but a young woman engaged on a perilous enterprise such as hers could not afford the weakness of tears.... If only Evan Pell were there!
She was arrested by that thought, by the sharpness of her desire for Evan’s presence. For the first time she perceived how important was the position he had assumed in her affairs. She reviewed their association from its inception, recalled how she had patronized him, almost despised him. She had pitied him for his inadequacy, for his dry pedantry.... Step by step she reviewed the changes which had taken place in him, dating these changes from that brutal scene before her door, when Jenney had beaten him to insensibility.... Her sympathy had commenced there; admiration had dawned, for it had been given her to see that a man who could conduct himself as Evan Pell conducted himself on that day contained in himself the elements which made up a man. Submerged they might have been, but they were present—and not too deep below the surface. She saw again that unequal fight; perceived the dauntlessness of the young man; the oaken heart of him which would fight until it died, fearless, struggling with its last throb to reach and tear down its enemy.
She saw now how he had struggled to perceive; how, led by her acid tongue, he had perceived the futility of his life, and how he had sought to alter it. His manner, his very appearance, had changed.... And he loved her! Never before had she given more than reluctant, pitying thought to his love for her, but now it assumed other proportions.... She was aware of wanting him—not as he wanted her—but of wanting him near her, to lean upon, to feel the strength of him....
Until he returned she could do nothing!... It was strange that she, who always had been so self-reliant, so sure, so ready to act by herself, should require the upholding of another. She could not understand it, fancied she had grown weak. She rather despised herself.... Yet it was a fact. She did not strive to overthrow it. It was not to be assailed. She could not go on until Evan Pell returned to help her!
It was an uneasy, unhappy day, crowded with apprehensions and questionings.... With events impending, with peril darkening the immediate future, she could do nothing but putter with detail. Yet she welcomed the detail—it took her mind off herself and her problems.
Noon came, and then suppertime.... It was not her usual custom to return to the office after supper, but to-night she did return—to wait for Evan, though she did not admit it. He might come back, and she wanted to be there to receive him.
To occupy her mind she took out the books of her concern and opened them to study progress. The circulation book came first, and she opened it at the last entried page. As she spread it before her an envelope lay under her eyes, and upon its face, in Evan Pell’s handwriting, was her name.
Miss Carmel Lee!
It was the first time she had ever seen her name in his handwriting, and she gazed at it with a strange, stifled feeling in her breast.... A letter to her from Evan Pell, left in this place where she must find it! She lifted it and held it in her fingers.... Why had he written? Why left his message in this place? She drew a sudden breath of fright. Could it be he had deserted her? Could it be he had found his position unbearable and, ashamed to face her, had taken this means of telling her?... She was overmastered by foreboding, feared to open the letter.
“I must open it,” she said to herself. “I must.”