For half an hour he pleaded in vain. There was but one answer.
“My work is here. I’ve thought it out to the end. I shall not fail. I’ll tell you when I’m ready and you will come then—”
There was an inspiration, a lofty spirit of exaltation, in her speech that hushed protest.
He pressed her lips.
“I will not see you again,” he said at last. “My coming is dangerous to us both. My work is done today. We may be watched by other eyes than Waldron’s guard on your block—”
“I am grateful for his help. I shall be sorry for him when the day I dream comes. But it must come. I have betrayed my country by folly beyond God’s forgiveness. I shall do my part now to retrieve that error—”
“You shall know and approve—and I shall not fail!”
She paused and held his gaze with a strange, glowing light in her eyes—the light of religious enthusiasm. It filled him with fear and thrilled him with hope. Her faith was contagious.
“You cannot work here—“ she went on, “a price is on your head.”