She smiled up at him without replying. The mad proposal seemed at the dreamy moment the sweetest of sanities. He continued in hurried intensity,—
“All will be so easy. You can say you are going to Ayresford—what more natural?—to stay here would be pain—there is a train for Ayresford about the time—half-past eight at Liverpool Street. I will meet you there with a ticket,—and then we shall be carried off to happiness—you and I—alone together—to conquer the world.... There—it must be.”
He took her hands, kissed them both, and released her. She stood for a while with downcast eyes and heaving bosom, recovering her mental balance.
“You have not yet told me,” she said presently, in a calmer voice, “why there should be this upheaval. I have said perhaps I might help you. Why do your life and honour and my happiness depend upon your leaving England to-night, Roderick?”
The supreme moment had come. He braced every nerve to meet the inevitable question. Summoning up an extraordinary dignity subtly tinged with sadness, he said with grave deliberation,—
“I cannot tell you.”
Ella recoiled involuntarily, staggered by the unexpectedness of the reply. She could only regard him in mute but anxious questioning.
“You must trust me, child,” he said. “It is another's secret.”
“So grave as to be withheld even from me?”
“Even so,” he replied. “I know,” he continued gravely, “I am asking you the ultimate thing a man can ask a woman,—blind trust. It is a thing that only the great soul, like you, can give. Put your hand in mine and trust in me!”