"Leave it at that, then, and say I won't," cried Marcia, leaping defiantly to her feet.
"You are making a great mistake, if you will pardon me for saying so," Sylvia responded gently. "You are deliberately closing your eyes and mind to facts that later are bound to cause you bitter unhappiness. Let alone the man's guilt. He has a wife. You seem to forget that. As Elisha Winslow remarked, you have already been miserable once. Why be so a second time? Help Stanley Heath to get out of Wilton and forget him."
"I cannot do either of those things. In the first place, I have given my word to hand Mr. Heath over to the authorities. As for forgetting him—why ask the impossible?"
Sylvia's patience gave way.
"Go your own way then," she snapped. "Go your own way and if by and by you regret it—as you surely will—do not blame me. Don't blame me, either, if I do not agree with you. Stanley Heath shall never remain here and be betrayed to the law. I've enough mercy in me to prevent that if you haven't. Stick to your grim old puritanism if you must. I'll beat it by a more charitable creed. I'll help him get away."
She started toward the stairway.
"Sylvia, come back here!" Marcia cried.
"I shall not come back."
"I beg you! Insist!"
The command fell on deaf ears.