“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, no!” cried Lettie, this new danger filling her with terror. “Never mind; let him go, but don’t arrest me. It would kill my mother, and me too!”
“Well, then, don’t talk so crazy,” said he gruffly. “I don’t believe your story—nor nobody won’t, an’ if it’s true, ’n I should get him, I’d have to lock you up for a witness. Tell me where you live, ’n I’ll see you safe home.”
“Oh, no!” she cried, tears running down her face, “I’ll go right home. My mother is sick, and it would kill her!”
The man was evidently touched by her distress.
“Well, miss, you just walk along, and I’ll keep you in sight to see that no more robbers get after you.”
With that she was forced to be contented, and with all the strength left to her she hurried along the paths towards home, the policeman following at a little distance and keeping her in sight till she ran up the steps of her home and disappeared inside.
Lettie ran up to her room, and, locking the door, flung herself on the bed, where she had a long cry, partly from nervous strain from the fright she had suffered, and partly for the loss of her treasures.
“I was a fool!” she said bitterly. “Mother always told me it was unsafe to wear jewelry in the streets and to go into those solitary paths in the park; but I didn’t believe her. I was a fool, and I’m well paid for it! I’ll never tell her—never!
“And I shall never dare to let father know, either,” she went on later; “he’d scour the world to find that man, and I should have to be locked up as a witness,”—she shuddered,—“I’d rather lose everything.”
A good deal subdued by this experience, she almost decided to give up the particular thing which had given her her liberty for the day,—the moonlight sail on the river. But after hours, when she had calmed down and decided that she would keep her experiences and her losses a secret from everybody, the thought of the great temptation again stirred her, and she finally resolved to carry out her plan and go.