"Yes."
"You have been pestered by some connection—some old associate of—his?"
"No!"
"What then?"
"I cannot tell you."
They were silent for some moments. Archibald Floyd looked imploringly at his child, but she did not answer that earnest gaze. She stood before him with a proudly downcast look: the eyelids drooping over the dark eyes, not in shame, not in humiliation; only in the stern determination to avoid being subdued by the sight of her father's distress.
"Aurora," he said at last, "why not take the wisest and the safest step? Why not tell John Mellish the truth? The danger would disappear; the difficulty would be overcome. If you are persecuted by this low rabble, who so fit as he to act for you? Tell him, Aurora—tell him all!"
"No, no, no!"
She lifted her hands and clasped them upon her pale face.
"No, no; not for all this wide world!" she cried.