She hesitated for a moment, then turning to me with that strange, anxious look upon her countenance, an expression most unusual for her, she said in a low, intense voice,—
“I wonder if I might actually take you at your word, Wilfrid. I wonder if—if—” and she hesitated, pursing her lips, and I saw that her hand trembled.
“Of course I’m always ready to assist you,” I said, somewhat surprised at her sudden change of manner.
“Ah! no!” she gasped, suddenly pale to the lips, a strange look of terror in her eyes. “My secret! I am very foolish. I cannot tell it to you—you of all men. It is too terrible. You would hate me!”
“Your secret!” I echoed. “What secret, Tibbie? Tell me?”
But she turned away from me, and covering her white face with her hands, burst into a flood of tears.