She turned, not knowing what to do, unwilling to leave him standing there.
"It's been years, Aurora. Now, listen—I'm going on up in the world myself, at last. I want to take you with me. I didn't want to say anything till the right time. It's been a long, hard pull for me, too, here in this town. It's hard for men like me to talk."
"You mustn't talk," said she. "You mustn't say a word—you mustn't be seen here even."
He looked at her slowly. "I'm here deliberately," said he. "Listen now—I must tell you some things, Aurora. I've loved you from the first day I saw you. Can't you credit me at least a little? You're splendid—you're beautiful—and you're good."
She choked a bit, raised a hand in swift protest.
"You're still young, Aurora," said he, not paying attention to what she said. "Of course I'm older, but there's a lot of time left yet for you and me—a lot of living. You've had mighty little out of life, here by yourself. Now I've stood it as long as I can. Since the whole truth about the boy has broken out today and can't ever be covered up again, it seemed to me I just had to tell you that you needed me to take care of you—someone more than just yourself. Things may go harder for you now. They've been hard enough already. You need help. Who more natural to help you than myself, feeling as I have, as I do?"
"Oh, you mustn't talk that way!" Her voice trembled. "You must go on away. I'm not—good——"
"You're good enough for me—good as I am, surely—and I want to get into this game with you now. You need me. That means we've got to be married. Oh, the boy's fine, yes, but he'll be going away. You need a man—a husband—someone you can depend on, Aurora. Isn't there anything welcome in that thought for you? Aurora, I want to marry you—at once, right away. I say that right now and here."
Aurora Lane looked this way and that, every way. Her gaze happened to go down the long vista beneath the maples, to fall upon the face of the town clock on the courthouse. The hour hand with a short jerk moved forward and the deep note of the bell boomed out—it was one o'clock of the night; and all was not well.
She turned as she felt the tense grasp of his great knotted hands still upon her own.