"Yes," hesitatingly, her eyes lifting to my face.
"But you must listen to me, Major Lawrence; you must learn why I did so unwomanly an act."
"First answer one question."
"Gladly."
"Is there an Eric Mortimer?"
"There is," she answered frankly; "my brother. It was for his sake I did all this."
A moment I sat my saddle silently, our horses walking side by side through the night, while I endeavored to grasp the meaning of her confession. I knew that she was riding bareheaded, her face turned away.
"Go on," I said at last, "tell me the whole story."
"I will," firmly, her head uplifted. "I was tempted to do so at Elmhurst, but something seemed to seal my lips. There is now no longer any excuse for silence. I—I wish you to know, and then, perhaps, you may feel more kindly disposed toward me."
"Your father is aware—"