For a full minute, which must have seemed an hour to the waiting man, there was silence in that room. Then Mary Dunlap spoke.
"With conditions, yes; but you must do more than that. There are other girls in the world. I do not ask you to give me your pledged word because—" There was a single expressive gesture of her hand that consigned any "pledged" word of his to the lowest level of contempt, and she left it to complete the sentence.
"But you have chosen to speak of me as a philanthropist. Perhaps you are aware that my life is given to the protection of young innocent girls who are in danger because of such men as you; and you may possibly understand what mighty forces I can call to my aid anywhere in the civilized world, if occasion requires. In view of this, for the sake of your wife and daughters, so long as you keep your life steadily within the law that governs respectable men, and hold yourself from insulting, by your attentions, not only the girl you tried to ruin, but every other girl and woman on God's earth, I will agree to keep silence to all but the one whose affections you have stolen, and her mother! These two shall know all that I do; the girl, that she may learn to turn from the thought of you with loathing, and the mother that she may guard her child with jealous care from men like you.
"Then, I must remind you that the same forces for righteousness that stand ready to help me, are as able to keep me informed as to how steadily you adhere to the terms I have made. On these grounds do you wish mercy from me?"
The man was looking steadily at her now. Man of the world as he was, hypocrite as the life he lived had trained him to be, accustomed to sneering at women, to flirting with women, to boasting within himself that he could lead them captive at his will, he looked at this woman whose hair was silvering, and felt that she could, and would, keep her word! For a long minute, he gazed at her, as one compelled to consider her, then bowed silently, and dropped his gaze to the floor.
There were quick steps in the hall, an eager hand on the door-knob, and Mrs. Oliver fluttered in.
"It was a long half hour, wasn't it?" she began. "Those women would talk! I thought I should never get away from them. Goodness! What is the matter with you two? You look as though you were posing for high tragedy. You haven't quarreled, have you?"
Mary Dunlap arose to the occasion.
"My dear Mrs. Oliver, I have decided that I shall have to change my plans, and start for Albany by the noon train to-day. There is a matter I have concluded must have my immediate attention."
Mrs. Oliver was voluble with regrets. Such a disappointment! She had been planning for this one day for so long! And Mr. Oliver was unexpectedly here to enjoy it with them! So sorry especially to have her miss seeing their new Y. W. building that had been planned "in exact accordance with your own ideas, dear Mrs. Dunlap, and it is simply perfect. Do, Ralph, tell her how sorry you are not to be able to show her through it."