It left him no choice. The darkness kindly falling veiled the grayness of his face. A touch of decrepitude lay on him as he stepped without and greeted Annabel with a stiff and stately courtesy, for he was shy with women of the higher world. The unsteadiness in his manner surprised Annabel, whose sympathies were keen and quick. I had prepared her, and, shocked though she evidently was, she met the situation bravely.
After some general talk, which was directed by me to show Annabel’s suffering, her courage and helpfulness, I saw that Captain Mason was softened. I then placed before him the plan concerning Annabel and Beelo. It took the breath out of his body, and he peered at me in amazement through the gloom. The perfect assurance with which I asked for his concurrence, a hint that her discretion might be trusted, and a casual remark that Christopher approved the idea, had effect. Annabel impulsively rose, seized both his hands, and pleaded:
“Please let me go, Captain Mason. Who knows what good may not come of it?”
I don’t think she noticed the catch in his throat. It was the final breaking up of the ice.
“Yes, you may go. But you’ll do nothing except as Mr. Tudor approves?”
“Nothing whatever, Captain Mason. Thank you.”
She released his hands and turned a beaming face to me. Pity for her welled within me. That she and her father, between whom there was so strong an attachment, should thus secretly proceed in opposite directions, each deceiving the other, was a terrible thing. No human perception could foresee the outcome, and, it gave me an uneasiness that she must have dimly seen.
“You don’t look glad!” she said in astonishment.
“I am too happy for mere gladness, my friend,” I replied; “and may all the good angels help you—and shield you!”
She heard the note of solemnity, and turned to Captain Mason.