“No,” he said, “it is not enough ... if you know these plotters. They are fighting against your country. They are dangerous. If you know them, if you can lead me to them, you must do it. Can’t you see? It doesn’t matter what stands in the way, you must do it.... For your country.”
“No,” she said, in terror. “No.... I’d rather die. I can’t.... I won’t. I came here to warn you, because I trusted you. I’ve done all I can.... You must not ask more.”
“Why?” he asked, sternly.
“I won’t answer anything. I won’t tell you anything more.... Oh, can’t you see?...” She broke out furiously: “I could kill them; I could see them tortured. I’d laugh to see them tortured.... I love my country as well as you do, Potter Waite, and I hate them—but I can’t tell.... I risked everything to warn you—”
“Hildegarde,” he said, stretching his arms out toward her, “was that why you came—was that all? Wasn’t there anything else? Didn’t you think about me?... I’ve waited for some word.... You know you’ve never doubted that I love you.... You’ve had time to think about that night, and to reason. You know I was right.... You can’t be holding that up against me.” Suddenly he was the old reckless, headstrong Potter, ruled by impulse, driven by desire. He crushed her into his arms and held her savagely while he kissed her cold cheeks, her lips, her brow. “You’ve come,” he said, hoarsely, “and you’ve come for keeps.... You’re mine. You know you’re mine.”
She struggled like an entrapped wild thing; but her struggles were futile. All at once she became limp, flexible in his arms; her tense soul became limp, flexible; she had endured to her utmost, and the breaking-point was reached.
“Hold me closer,” she sobbed. “Oh, closer—closer....”
“You came,” he said, and then repeated it over and over again, as if he were suddenly face to face with a divine marvel. “You came.” Then: “Has the time been hard for you? As it has for me?... If it had been you would have come sooner.” He lifted her in his arms and held her as if she were a child, and a warm, sweet feeling of comfort and contentment covered her. She was happy with such happiness as she had never known. “Tell me,” he said in her ear, “tell me that you love me. I want to hear you say it.”
“I love you,” she said, obediently, and as she said it she realized that it was true, had been true, would always be true, as long as life should last.
He laughed boyishly, joyously. “Shall we elope again? Or what shall we do?... You mustn’t leave me long. How soon can you come to me forever?”