"There is nothing to tell," he repeated with dreary monotony.
"But there is, Paul. You can save yourself if you will, you know you can." He did not speak, but sat still, looking at her with steady gaze.
"Will you leave me so?" she went on. "I will not plead with you for your own sake, or for your own happiness, but will you not for mine? Think, Paul! I love you. All that I have and am belong to you. To lose you will be losing everything. Will you not, for my sake, speak? There, Paul"—she threw her arms round his neck and kissed him—"there, Paul, I love you; I love you more than life. Will you not tell me for my life's happiness?"
He knew what temptation meant then, as he had never known it before. His heart hungered for her as even he had never thought it could hunger. His whole being cried out for her and for happiness, and if he would but speak, then everything became possible; while if he were silent——
It seemed as though his mind were giving way, as though the trial were too hard to bear. God, if there were a God at all, could never expect him to give up such a joy. He was young—only a little more than a lad in years—with life all before him, with glorious possibilities, and the love of Mary Bolitho. While she, she who stood there, was glorious in her youth and in her beauty. She, who, with the sacrifice of all that lesser women hold so dear, had come to him and besought him to enter into the joy he longed for. Oh, he could not give her up; he must speak.
He nerved himself to tell her, nerved himself to relate the story of his life, and the story of what he was sure his mother had done; but even as he did so, he saw his mother's face. He remembered her years of loneliness and disappointment and sorrow. He remembered how her life had been blackened and broken, and that she had done everything for him. No, he could not, he could not.
"There is nothing to tell." He reiterated the words as though they were some formula, and he thought indeed all was over. But to his surprise, the girl laughed again.
"Do you think I don't know you, Paul? Do you think I am going to give up our happiness without a struggle? Do you think I am going to allow you to go down to your grave without fighting for you? You will not tell me, but I'm going to find out! I know you are shielding someone. Your eyes have told me the truth, and you cannot deny what I have said. Who it is doesn't matter. But I'm going to find out. I'm going to save you, Paul. And we shall be happy in spite of everything."
"No, no." His voice was hoarse and unnatural.
"But I will," she said. "Do you think my love is something that makes me helpless? Do you think I can stand by knowing that you are innocent, and allowing you to appear guilty of such a crime? I don't love you for nothing, Paul. I love you to serve you—to save you."