“No,” she responded, sighing, “there are the others. His arrest would only bring their wrath upon me, for they would believe that I had betrayed them.”
“They are spies and enemies of our country and our Queen, Edith,” I urged. “To betray them is your duty as an Englishwoman.”
“To disclose their secret would mean to me a swift and terrible death,” she answered.
I saw that all my efforts at persuasion were unavailing. As we retraced our steps the silence between us was a sad and painful one.
“You do not love me sufficiently to sacrifice all for my sake, Edith,” I said at last gravely; “otherwise you would help me to unravel the mystery.” We were just descending a narrow winding path to the high road as I spoke, and she halted suddenly in indecision.
“I do love you, Gerald,” she cried with sudden resolution. She flung her arms about my neck; she buried her face upon my shoulder; she burst again into tears. “I love you—I have never loved any man except yourself!” she declared passionately, lifting her face to me until our lips met.
“Then will you not make this sacrifice, if you really love me so well?” I asked. “Will you not tell me the truth, and allow me to be your champion?”
She hesitated, and I saw the terrible struggle going on within her.
“Yes,” she cried hoarsely at last, “I will—I will! and if they kill me, you will at least know that I loved you, Gerald—that I loved you deeply and dearly!”
“I am convinced of that, darling,” I said. “But in this affair your interests are my own. Tell me the truth, and give me freedom of action. If you will, we may yet overthrow our enemies.”