"You trusted me by leaving me at the time that I needed you most. You trusted me by going away and leaving me in ignorance as to your whereabouts. You might have known that at any price I would save you, and I have. It is not necessary that you should longer disguise your sex from the world. The charge that Leonard Chandler made against you has been withdrawn."
Leonie started up excitedly.
"Withdrawn!" she gasped. "How did he happen to do that?"
"Through the persuasion of his daughter."
For a moment she was silent, then she sprung up, standing before him, her lovely face quivering with emotion.
"Then that is the secret of your renewed engagement with Evelyn Chandler. Tell me the truth, Lynde. Is it not so?"
His eyes were downcast for a moment, then raised bravely.
"Yes," he answered. "You must not ask me anything further, because honor forbids that I should answer you. But you are free as air."
"I am free, but you!" she cried, her voice scarcely more than an agonized whisper—"you are worse than a prisoner! You do not love her, and, not loving her, you will marry her for my sake. Listen to me, Lynde. You must not do it—you must not, if I go to the gallows instead of to the penitentiary! You have taught me a lesson in self-sacrifice. I shall not tell you now the secret that has moved my life, that has robbed it of every hope, of every joy, because my unsupported testimony would count for little; but I will find a way to prove my words; and I will save you from the woman whom you would make your wife!"
"I beg that you will not do that, Leonie. There is nothing now that could relieve me of the sacred promise that I have taken upon myself, and anything that you might say would but be a useless sacrifice upon your part, and would but increase my burden. Promise me that you will do nothing!"