"No," I replied harshly, and I leaned heavily against the wall. She held out her hand to aid me, but I would not take it.
"I've no right even to look at you—I who have been doubly enjoined to cherish such a 'scrupulous sense of honor.' I'd better have died a thousand times. Call Reuben."
"How can I leave you so ill and unhappy!" and she made a gesture of protest and distress whose strong effect was only intensified by the obscurity. "I had hoped—you led me to think to-night—"
"That I was a weather-vane. Thank you."
Steps were heard entering the hall.
"Oh! oh!" she exclaimed, in bitter protest.
"Emily," called the banker's voice, "are you not very long?"
I seized her hand to detain her, and said, in a fierce whisper: "Never so humiliate me as to let him know. Go at once; some one will find me."
"Your hand is like ice," she breathed.
I ignored her presence, leaned back, and closed my eyes.