“But I shall MAKE you tell,” he replied, and his voice rang.
“Oh no, you cannot,” she said.
“I can—with just one word!”
Her eyes were great, starry, shadowy gulfs, dark in the white beauty of her face. She was calm now. She had strength. She invited him to speak the word, and the wistful, tremulous quiver of her lips was for his earnest thought of her.
“Wait—a—little,” said Shefford, unsteadily. “I'll come to that presently. Tell me this—have you ever thought of being free?”
“Free!” she echoed, and there was singular depth and richness in her voice. That was the first spark of fire he had struck from her. “Long ago, the minute I was unwatched, I'd have leaped from a wall had I dared. Oh, I wasn't afraid. I'd love to die that way. But I never dared.”
“Why?” queried Shefford, piercingly.
She was silent then.
“Suppose I offered to give you freedom that meant life?”
“I—couldn't—take it.”