But suppose she crushed her. Suppose her aunt would not leave Rossignol,—would stop to comfort her favourite, and investigate the cause of the disgrace overwhelming her. Vexatious circumstances might arise; something unforeseen might happen to implicate her in the matter. Her first duty was to herself. She would at this moment give up her vengeance, dear as it was to her, if it stood in the way of her personal advancement. She had better do so. The detective had taken a most unwise step in coming to see her. She must shake him off at once and for ever.
"I will be frank with you," she said, hurriedly. "I had reason to suppose it would be a good thing to have this man exposed, but he has a relative,—a young woman who is sensitive. The shock of hearing what you have told me might be disastrous for her. I did not dream that he would prove to be so renowned a criminal."
"It's a life sentence, ma'am, if we catch him."
"We must not catch him," she said, haughtily. "I wish you to let the pursuit drop at once."
"You do," he said, in a thick voice.
"Yes,—I will make it up to you."
"How, might I ask?"
"I will pay your bill twice over."
He chuckled huskily. "You might fill this house with bank-bills. You might cover old Katahdin with gold plate,—you couldn't move me any more than you'd move that same old mountain. I'm a Maine man, and when a Maine man makes up his mind you know the old saying about might that goes with it. H. Robinson don't go back of his word, and he's sworn to hunt this man down."
There was a detestable sickening crease in his fat lips, and Chelda turned her head away for an instant.