“I hope so,” I exclaimed quickly. “Surely there is no reason why you should be unhappy. You are young, wealthy, courted, flattered, and one of the best-looking women in London. You are well aware of that, Tibbie.”
“Aware of it!” she exclaimed hoarsely, in a low, broken voice. “Everyone tells me so. Yes,” she added bitterly, “I have everything except the one thing debarred me—happiness.”
“And why not that?”
“Can one be happy if one does not possess peace of mind? That, alas! I do not possess.”
“Because you hold a secret,” I remarked slowly, looking into her eyes as they suddenly met mine. “Will you never reveal it to me, Tibbie?” I asked. “I could surely assist you.”
But she shook her head, replying,—
“No. The error is mine, and I must bear the punishment. Ah!” she cried, suddenly starting up, placing both palms to her brow, and pacing up and down the little room. “Ah! you don’t know what I suffer. Day and night I sit here and think and think, and wonder, and fear. Yes!” she cried, her eyes starting as she glared at me in her desperation. “I fear! I fear lest I may be discovered by those enemies who have sworn to effect my ruin! But—but you will save me, Wilfrid,” she gasped, suddenly advancing, turning her white face to mine, and clutching my hand. “You will protect me from them, won’t you?”
“Of course,” I answered, greatly surprised at her sudden terror, when only a few moments before she had been so calm in the enjoyment of her cigarette.
“But who are these enemies of whom you are in such fear? Tell me, and I may then act accordingly. Surely it is only just that I should be aware of their identity?” I urged.
“No. I—I—I mean I can’t explain. If I did, I should lose even you, Wilfrid—the only true friend I have in the whole world.”