Gradually, his eyes growing familiar with the light and the texture of the veil, the conviction grew upon him that he was not mistaken, that it was indeed Elsie Lambert. It was by a powerful exertion of will that he controlled the burning impulse to address her, to take the place beside her vacated by an old lady. She could not leave the conveyance without passing him; he would be quiet and careful. But if her father was seeking her in America, how came she here, alone, and evidently disguised? What frightful confession of weakness, betrayal, and duplicity awaited him! for this night he would know everything. He had her in his grasp, and she should not escape. The minutes were like drops of lead, and still the commonplace everyday 'bus rolled on, its occupants little dreaming what elements of tragedy were enclosed within it.
At last he observed Elsie—yes, it was Elsie—murmur something to her next neighbor, who immediately called out—
"Conductor, Chapel Street for this lady."
The omnibus stopped. Glynn kept quietly in his place, but sprang out the moment she had passed him. The omnibus drove rapidly away.
The slight dark figure was but a few paces before him in a quiet street leading from the omnibus line. The longed-for, dreaded moment had come. He walked rapidly past her, turned round suddenly, and confronting her, exclaimed:
"Miss Lambert—Elsie! you cannot wish to avoid me?"
She stopped, and put out both her hands with a repellent gesture of helpless terror that touched Glynn's heart with immense pity.
"Is it possible you fear me?" he said, catching both her hands in his.
She was silent, motionless; but as he almost unconsciously drew her nearer to him, he felt that she was trembling so violently that she could scarcely stand.
"Do not fear, I will not betray you to any one. I will help you if I can. Will you not speak to me? Is it the Elsie I used to know?"