That last appeal stiffened Cis. She cried impatiently:
“Do you think I want to profit by dishonor?”
“Cis, Cis, my Holly-bride, my wife in eight weeks, do listen to me!” implored Rod. “It isn’t wrong to give me the tip; I won’t let anyone else share it; you wouldn’t be betraying confidence, but you would share your knowledge with your full self. You and I will be one person months before that franchise matter is public, likely. Only this, Cis: Shall I buy that stock, or not? Just nod yes, or shake your head, no. Make me by a nod, or save me by a shake of the head; that’s all! I need money, Cis. You hesitate! Fine old love yours is!”
“Oh, Rod, I can’t! Don’t you see I can’t?” begged Cis. “Don’t ask me, don’t! Mr. Lucas—they all trust me. I never played anyone false in all my life——”
“Except me!” cried Rodney bitterly. “You’re my wife, or as good as that, with all yourself pledged to me, yet when you can serve me, merely by a tiny nod when I ask: ‘Cis, shall I buy that stock?’ you are stiff-necked and indifferent; you won’t by the tiny inclination of your head help me upon my feet! Shame, Cicely Adair! It’s not what I call love; it’s not what I counted on in you! I thought you’d die for me, if need were! It’s not the money, not first! You fail me, Cis; you refuse to help me!”
“Oh, Rod, oh, Rod!” cried Cis in torture. “You know, you know it’s all false! I—can’t! Oh, I will, I will! Oh, Rod, don’t look like that, not at me; not at Cis! I’ll die for you, I will! I shall be dead if I’m no longer trustworthy, but I’d die for you! Buy the stock. The franchise is decided; it is going through! Oh, Rod, Rod! Oh, what have I done!”
“Right, my precious, my darling! Anyone would say you had done right. No one will be the worse for it, and I’ll be far, far better! We’ll be better! Bless you, my Holly girl, my brave, true, loyal Holly girl!” cried Rodney triumphantly.
“Don’t call me loyal!” Cis gasped. “And plan so I’ll never profit by that money. Rodney, it is heaven to love you, but, oh, it can be hell to have anyone so necessary to you that everything goes down before the dread of paining him!”
Rodney left Cis on the steps of Mrs. Wallace’s house, looking wan and pale, grief and terror in her wide eyes, but he did not pity her. He was sure that she would soon throw off what he considered her morbid exaggeration of her failure to keep her employers’ secret.
“Fancy her not telling me! The silly darling!” Rodney thought, striding away, whistling loudly the air with which he serenaded Cis when he passed down her street at night; he was sure that she was still standing within the open door; listening to his receding steps and his merry whistling.