“Sir,” said I, with a quickly beating heart, “sir, are you one in whom a lady can confide?”
“Why, my dear,” said he, removing his cigar, “that depends on circumstances. If you will raise your veil—”
“Sir,” I interrupted, “let there be no mistake. I ask you, as a gentleman, to serve me, but I offer no reward.”
“That is frank,” said he; “but hardly tempting. And what, may I inquire, is the nature of the service?”
But I knew well enough it was not my interest to tell him on so short an interview. “If you will accompany me,” said I, “to a house not far from here, you can see for yourself.”
He looked at me awhile with hesitating eyes; and then, tossing away his cigar, which was not yet a quarter smoked, “Here goes!” said he, and with perfect politeness offered me his arm. I was wise enough to take it; to prolong our walk as far as possible, by more than one excursion from the shortest line; and to beguile the way with that sort of conversation which should prove to him indubitably from what station in society I sprang. By the time we reached the door of my lodging, I felt sure I had confirmed his interest, and might venture, before I turned the pass-key, to beseech him to moderate his voice and to tread softly. He promised to obey me; and I admitted him into the passage, and thence into my sitting-room, which was fortunately next the door.
“And now,” said he, when with trembling fingers I had lighted a candle, “what is the meaning of all this?”
“I wish you,” said I, speaking with great difficulty, “to help me out with these boxes—and I wish nobody to know.”
He took up the candle. “And I wish to see your face,” said he.
I turned back my veil without a word, and looked at him with every appearance of resolve that I could summon up. For some time he gazed into my face, still holding up the candle. “Well,” said he at last, “and where do you wish them taken?”