"I have preferred not, Miss Helen. In fact there are reasons why I cannot—must not—now."
"What reasons?" demanded Helen.
"Please, Miss Helen, I cannot tell you—nor him."
"You are not ashamed of it, surely?"
"No, Miss Helen. I would do it again this morning—willingly—at any cost to myself. But do not ask me to tell of it."
Helen regarded him narrowly for a minute in silence.
"And you kept me from—death—also. Am I not to tell him of that either?"
"Please no, Miss Helen. If I have done you a service and you think it worth reward, I ask that you repay me by telling no one that I am either your father's rescuer or your own."
Mystery always annoyed Helen unbearably, and she looked at Hayward as if uncertain whether to peremptorily demand his secret or to inform him she herself would acquaint her father with the facts he sought to conceal. Hayward saw something of her purpose in her eyes, and pleaded with her.
"Miss Helen, I beg you. My reasons are imperative—and honourable. When the time comes that I may I will gladly tell your father, but if now you would do me the greatest favour you will say nothing of it."