“You mustn’t try to see me! You mustn’t come here at all unless you come with the knowledge of my father. And the very fact that your life is sought so persistently—at most unusual times and in impossible places, leaves very much to explain.”
“I know that! I realize all that!”
“Then you must not come! You must leave instantly.”
She walked away toward the front door; but he followed, and at the door she turned to him again. They were in the full glare of the door lamps, and she saw that his face was very earnest, and as he began to speak he flinched and shifted the cloak awkwardly.
“You have been hurt—why did you not tell me that?”
“It is nothing—the fellow had a knife, and he—but it’s only a trifle in the shoulder. I must be off!”
The lightning had several times leaped sharply out of the hills; the wind was threshing the garden foliage, and now the rain roared on the tin roof of the veranda.
As he spoke a carriage rolled into the grounds and came rapidly toward the porte-cochère.
“I’m off—please believe in me—a little.”
“You must not go if you are hurt—and you can’t run away now—my father and mother are at the door.”