But Annie, for some reason which she did not quite understand herself, felt strangely strong that afternoon. Perhaps it was Mrs. Acheson’s kindness; perhaps it was the thought of Leslie, and what Leslie endured through Annie’s former ill-doing. Even Belle, with all her eccentricities, had a perceptible influence upon Annie now.
“For all these good, these dear people look upon crime as an impossibility,” thought the girl. “Now, Rupert seems to take it as the ordinary course of existence. There is no saying; I may get to look at things from his standpoint if I don’t take care. I dare not; I will never yield to his entreaties.”
So, though he begged of her, and implored of her, and bullied her, and flattered her, though he used all his eloquence, Annie remained firm.
It was the first time in all Rupert’s experience that he found her so, and it was the first time he thoroughly respected his sister. At the end of that interview he saw
that if he was to get anything out of the Achesons he must do it in his own way.
“You have astonished and pained me,” he said at last. “I never thought you would desert me. Even in my darkest hour I have always thought ‘Well, at least there is Annie.’ Now my hour of gloom has truly arrived, my black hour come, and I am only able to say ‘Annie has deserted me.’”
“No,” answered Annie, “I have not really deserted you; but I will not consent to drag either you or myself any lower. I dragged you low enough when I gave you that last money; I have lowered myself. I shall never be the same again. I have also injured one of the best girls in the world. I bitterly repent of the sin which I committed. I am truly sorry for poor Leslie. Now, Rupert, you know my decision.”
“Yes, it is true what I have just said: you have utterly forsaken me.”
“No; for I still love you.”
“Oh, don’t talk humbug, Annie!” said Rupert with an angry interjection. “When you utter the word ‘love’ at such a moment like the present you make me actually sick.”