Till her eyes were full she kept them on him, too deep in emotion to be conscious of it.
He could gaze on her tears coldly.
“I should be happy to take the leap any day for the prize you offered. I have come for that.”
“For what, Evan?” But while she was speaking the colour mounted in her cheeks, and she went on rapidly:
“Did you think it unkind of me not to come to nurse you. I must tell you, to defend myself. It was the Countess, Evan. She is offended with me—very justly, I dare say. She would not let me come. What could I do? I had no claim to come.”
Rose was not aware of the import of her speech. Evan, though he felt more in it, and had some secret nerves set tingling and dancing, was not to be moved from his demand.
“Do you intend to withhold it, Rose?”
“Withhold what, Evan? Anything that you wish for is yours.”
“The handkerchief. Is not that mine?”
Rose faltered a word. Why did he ask for it? Because he asked for nothing else, and wanted no other thing save that.