Mr. Brander said nothing to this at first, and Olivia, raising her head to steal a look at his face, judged by his expression that he was in the throes of some terrible mental struggle, the outcome of which would be some passionate outburst. But he recovered command of himself, and when he at last spoke to her, it was in a very quiet voice.
“I am keeping you standing in the snow, Miss Denison; I must not do that. But we must come to a word of understanding now; it will put us on a right footing for the future.”
“You need not say another word to me, Mr. Brander,” interrupted Olivia, vehemently. “The understanding between us is clear enough; you are a most warm-hearted gentleman, and have shown me more delicate kindness than I ever received in my life; I am, and shall be as long as you let me, your grateful friend. What understanding do you want more than that?”
Her clear young voice rang out with enthusiastic warmth, which threw the clergyman off his balance. He began to tremble like a leaf, and again his thin, mobile face showed signs of the emotion within him. But he still kept it under restraint, and spoke in a perfectly steady voice.
“Thank you; I expected generosity from you. But—do you quite understand the position I am in, I wonder? Did you understand that man—that tramp—is keeping a secret for me?”
“Yes,” answered Olivia, steadily.
“And you are aware of its nature?”
The girl drew a deep breath, but she answered bravely, though in a low voice, “Yes.”
“And after that, and after hearing everything that you have heard, that you must have heard, about this miserable story, you still are ready to call yourself—my friend?”
He kept his voice at the same quiet pitch, but on the last two words it broke a little. There was a pause of only a few seconds.