"But you do not rule me out! You will give me a chance"—
My earnestness caused her manner to change suddenly. Her beautiful gravity came like a swift falling of starlit twilight. I had never been so happy as at this moment. Preposterous as were the circumstances of my presence in the house, the juxtaposition of Cecilia Hollister gave me unalloyed delight. The animosity of the gentlemen at the Prescott Arms—an animosity which the interview in my office had doubtless intensified—quickened my satisfaction in thus being within the walls that guarded the lady of their adoration. She had not answered me, and I felt my heart pounding in the silence.
"I want to serve you, now, hereafter, and always," I added. "These men can have no claim upon you greater than that of any other man who dares!"
"No, none whatever," she replied firmly.
"And the mystery, the whole story, is in the little silver book!"
She started, flushed, and then laughter visited her lips and eyes. The book was not in her hands nor in sight anywhere, but I felt that I was on the right track, and that the little trinket had to do with her plight and her compact with her aunt. Best of all, the fact that I had chanced upon this clue gave her happiness. There was no debating that.
"You had best have a care, Mr. Ames. You have spoken words that would be treasonable if they came from me, and I must not countenance them."
"But you will tolerate from me words that you would not permit another to speak? Do I go too far?"
She bent her head to one side,—with the slightest inclination, as of a rose touched by a vagrant wind.
"If I could only half believe in you," she said, "you might really serve me. So those gentlemen warned you away! Their presumption is certainly astounding."