“But think of the practical side of it!” he cried. “Do you imagine that you can stop this huge machine that Waterman has set in motion?”
“I don't know, I don't know!” she exclaimed, choking back a sob. “I can only do what I can. If he has any spark of feeling in him—I'll get down on my knees to him, I will beg him—”
“But, Lucy! think of what you are doing. You go there to his house at night! You put yourself into his power!”
“I don't care, Allan—I am not afraid of him. I have thought about myself too long. Now I must think about the man I love.”
Montague did not answer, for a moment. “Lucy,” he said at last, “will you tell me how you have thought of yourself in one single thing?”
“Yes, yes—I will!” she cried, vehemently. “I have known all along that Waterman was following me. I have been haunted by the thought of him—I have felt his power in everything that has befallen us. And I have never once told Ryder of his peril!”
“That was more a kindness to him—” began the other.
“No, no!” panted Lucy; and she caught his coat sleeve in her trembling hands. “You see, you see—you cannot even imagine it of me! I kept it a secret—because I was afraid!”
“Afraid?” he echoed.
“I was afraid that Ryder would leave me! I was afraid that he would give me up! And I loved him too much!—Now,” she rushed on—“you see what kind of a person I have been! And I can sit here, and tell you that! Is there anything that can make me ashamed after that? Is there anything that can degrade me after that? And what is there left for me to do but go to Waterman and try to undo what I have done?”