"Say yes, Sairay—tell me you"—
There was a jarring slam and a flood of light; one of the shutters had blown open. Both started, glanced around, then faced each other again; but that noisy interruption had thoroughly aroused Sara. She looked at Jasper in this brighter light, and a quick revulsion of feeling swept over her. What was she doing? Would she lie to him?
She did not love him; did she dare to tell him that she did? A thought of another manly figure, bearing a certain refinement and nobility lacking in this, rose before her mind's eye, and when Jasper finished his sentence—"tell me you love me!" her answer was ready.
"I can't, Jasper," she said low, but firmly, "It wouldn't be"—
He stopped her again.
"Don't answer me now; take time to think—take till tomorrow. This is too sudden; nobody can know their minds all in a minute. I'll come again when you've had time to think."
She shook her head.
"No, Jasper, that is not necessary. You have always been one of my best friends—be so still! But—that is all. I can't give you what you ask for, and time will never change me—don't think it. The best way is to have perfect truth between us. Now, Jasper," trying to speak easily, "put this aside, and stay with us this evening. I want you to see Morton and"—
"I can't," said Jasper, in a voice of intense calmness (she could imagine him giving an order in just that tone, when life or death hung on the proper execution of it), "I—must go. You—you're sure you know your mind?"
"Yes, sure."