"That is not the question now, sir," said Fleda, who was trembling painfully. "I cannot do evil that good may come."
"But evil?" said he detaining her,--"what evil do I ask of you?--to remove evil, I do."
Fleda clasped her hands, but answered calmly,
"I cannot make any pretences, sir;--I cannot promise to give what is not in my power."
"In whose power then?" said he quickly.
A feeling of indignation came to Fleda's aid, and she turned away. But he stopped her still.
"Do you think I do not understand?" he said with a covert sneer that had the keenness and hardness, and the brightness, of steel.
"I do not, sir," said Fleda.
"Do you think I do not know whom you came here to meet?"
Fleda's glance of reproach was a most innocent one, but it did not check him.