“You may trust me,” was all he said.
Christina held out her hand, taking it away again, however, before he had time to do more than hold it for a half second in his.
“Thank you—very much,” said she, as she hurried away.
CHAPTER XXV. AN APPEAL.
Chris walked as long as she could be seen by Donald; but as soon as she was out of his sight, she ran. Into the house, up the stairs, never taking breath until she had shut herself into the dressing-room, and turned the key in the lock. Then she took out the precious letter, her eyes so dim that at first she could scarcely read it. When at last she had conquered her agitation sufficiently to do so, she read the following words, written in a bold, clear hand:
“You must forgive,” so it began, without any heading, “all that is strange, all that is wrong in this letter, for it is the first I have ever written. If my words are like those of a savage you must forgive that too, for it is not my fault. I have lived alone for years that I cannot count, but it is nearly all my life, ever since my father died. I have been miserable enough, and yet I never knew what misery was until I saw you. Neither have I ever known what joy was until I looked into your eyes and touched your hand. You have opened the world to me. You have woke me out of a long sleep. You have given me heart and courage, you have saved me from becoming what they pretend that I already am. I had thought myself an outcast from all the world; long ago I had forgotten what hope was, when you came here like a ray of sunshine and changed the whole face of the world for me. I scarcely know how to go on. I am afraid to offend you, afraid that you will not believe what I say. But you are kind, you are good; and as I cannot see you again I must write. I ask you just this one thing; it is a favour I think you will not refuse. Come into the enclosed garden under my window every day, at any time, if only for five minutes, and let me see you. I know the gates are kept locked, but you will be able to do this if you will, for if you ask for the key you will get it, as nobody could resist you.
“One more thing I beg you to do. Be silent about me to the man who keeps me here. If you intercede for me you will only do me harm. I don’t know myself why he keeps me here; he has never even let me know my own name. I know, as you know, that I am cursed with an infirmity which condemns me to a solitary life; but I ask you to judge whether it was necessary to treat me as I have been treated. I know he pretends that I am dangerous; and he has just this excuse, that, as far as he is concerned, he has made me so. But I will not write to you of him. The time for me to call him to account is nearer than he thinks.
“If I see you in the garden to-morrow I shall know that you have found my letter, and that you forgive me.
“Dick.”
Chris had been interested in Mr. Richard. She had known of this interest, which had seemed to be occasioned by pity only. Now that she held his letter in her hands, and pressed it against her lips she knew more than this. She knew that the feeling she had for the forlorn recluse was something deeper, more tender than pity. She knew that she loved him.
When she went downstairs to dinner, her face seemed transfigured, her fresh beauty had never been so brilliant. All eyes were attracted by the delicate colour in her cheeks, by the brightness of her eyes; and Donald, who guessed the cause for this unusual radiance, was jealous and sullen throughout the meal.