"I do not want to leave you," he cried eagerly. "It would be cowardly. Marlanx would understand that you gave aid and sanction. You would be left to face the charges he would make. Don't you see, Beverly? You would be implicated—you would be accused. Why did you not let me kill him? No; I will not go!" Neither noticed the name by which he had called her.
"But I insist," she cried weakly. "You must go away from me. I—I command you to—"
"Is it because you want to drive me out of your life forever?" he demanded, sudden understanding coming to him.
"Don't put it that way," she murmured.
"Is it because you care for me that you want me to go?" he insisted, drawing near. "Is it because you fear the love I bear for you?"
"Love? You don't really—Stop! Remember where you are, sir! You must not go on with it, Baldos. Don't come a step nearer. Do go to-night! It is for the best. I have been awfully wicked in letting it run on as it has. Forgive me, please forgive me," she pleaded. He drew back, pale and hurt. A great dignity settled upon his face. His dark eyes crushed her with their quiet scorn.
"I understand, Miss Calhoun. The play is over. You will find the luckless vagabond a gentleman, after all. You ask me to desert the cause I serve. That is enough. I shall go to-night."
The girl was near to surrender. Had it not been for the persistent fear that her proud old father might suffer from her wilfulness, she would have thrown down the barrier and risked everything in the choice. Her heart was crying out hungrily for the love of this tall, mysterious soldier of fortune.
"It is best," she murmured finally. Later on she was to know the meaning of the peculiar smile he gave her.
"I go because you dismiss me, not because I fear an enemy. If you choose to remember me at all, be just enough to believe that I am not a shameless coward."