The silence grew painful, and I watched the mobile features which so plainly indexed the passing emotions of her mind. A blush, like that of shame, tinged her cheek and pallid brow as she lifted her face to mine, although her eyes were downcast.
“Frank,” she said, slowly, “will you help me?”
“With heart and soul, dearest.”
“Then you can do so.” And she drew a deep breath.
“How?”
She hesitated, wavering even then, as it seemed; and the colour left her cheeks as suddenly as it had appeared.
In a low voice, speaking rapidly and impetuously, she replied:—
“Briefly, you may learn this. My uncle is my guardian. He has, I believe, appropriated a large sum of money which is mine by right. Ah! I know what you would say. But I dare not prosecute or expose him, for the consequences would be almost beyond conception, and would affect myself more even than him. I am powerless!”
“But I can help you?”
“I’m afraid you will not consent to what I ask.”