“No, thank God. Not mine. I love Germany—the Germany of my mother—and the men like Lindberg. But the Germany of von Stromberg—that’s not Germany to me.”
“Do you think we will get away?”
“Yes,” he said quickly.
She read the anxiety in his voice and knew that he was thinking of her, and in that moment a new idea of her duty came to her.
“You mean,” she said quickly, “that you could get away if it wasn’t for me. O Cyril, I know. Don’t try to deceive me. You could disguise yourself and get away to the Swiss border. It would not be difficult for you. I am a weight around your neck which may destroy you.”
“Hush, child.”
“No. I am not too stupid to see that. You ought to be going now.” She clung to his arms and looked up into his face as her duty came more clearly to her, while her voice trembled with earnestness. “I want you to go, Cyril. Your life is valuable to England. They are on a false scent down there. You could get away in the darkness and by morning you can be miles away. I’m not afraid. Tomorrow I can go and give myself up. I am only a girl—an American. They will not dare to harm me. Don’t smile. I am in deadly earnest. You must go, Cyril—now—now——”
But he only patted her gently.
“You think that I am a child,” she went on, “that I cannot be trusted to get along alone. Haven’t I proved it to you that I am not afraid? Look at me, Cyril. I am only a little tired now but tomorrow I will go to von Stromberg and say, ‘Here I am—now what can you do to me?’ He may threaten and bluster and rage, but that will not frighten me—when you are safe. What can he reply? What could he do? My nation is not at war with his. He would not dare! O Cyril, say that you’ll go—say that you’ll go——”
She looked up into his face and saw that its expression had not changed. He was still smiling at her softly while she felt the touch of his fingers gently petting her.