A kiss--or it may be half-a-dozen, for in such cases one soon loses count--did something towards reassuring her.
"I asked you not to open the sealed packet till you had seen me again, because I thought it better that I should first tell you a certain strange story, of which as yet you know nothing, and so prepare your mind for what you will find there when you come to open it."
"But--but how is it possible that you can know anything as to the contents of the sealed packet?"
"It is quite possible, as you shall presently hear," answered Gerald, with a smile. "But before I go any further, I want you to promise me one thing."
"Only one! I think I may promise that. But tell me what it is."
"Simply this. That nothing I may tell you this afternoon will be allowed in any way to prejudice the promise which you gave me this morning."
"The promise which you stole, you mean."
"Well, then, the promise which I stole. But since you put the case in that way, I must change my request into a warning. Take notice, that I, John Pomeroy, do hereby warn you, Eleanor Lloyd, that whatever I may have to tell you to-day notwithstanding, I shall consider you bound in honour to fulfil and carry out a certain promise which, whether it was stolen from you or given of your own free will, is none the less a promise, and binding on your conscience as such. I cannot just now call to mind the particular Act of Parliament applicable in such cases, but I have no doubt that there is one. Consider yourself, therefore, as having been properly warned."
"And now, sir, may I ask of what strange, eventful history all this may be looked on as the prologue?"
Her lip quivered a little as she asked this question. She was beginning to fear she knew not what. Involuntarily her fingers closed more tightly on the hand that was still holding hers. The close contact seemed to give her strength. "What need I fear now I know that he loves me?" she asked herself; and her heart whispered back--"Nothing."