The
half-hour he had given her was nearly spent. If she did not make up her
mind soon it would be too late. It might be that already he was repenting
his brief generosity, if generosity it had been. It might be that at any
moment she would hear his tread upon the stairs.
She started up in a panic, fancying that she heard it already. But no
sound followed her wild alarm, and she knew that her quivering nerves
had tricked her. Shuddering from head to foot, she stood listening,
debating with herself.
Her time was very short now; only three minutes to the half-hour--only
two--only one!
With a gasp, she gathered together all the little strength she had left.
But she could not descend those gloomy stairs. She dared not go to him.
She stood halting at the top.
Ah, now he was moving! She heard his step in the room below, and she was
conscious of an instant's wild relief that the suspense was past.
Then panic rushed back upon her, blotting out all else. She saw his
shadow on the stairs, and she cried to him to stop.
"I am coming down to you! Wait for me! Wait!"
He stepped back, and she stumbled downwards, nearly falling in her haste.
At the last stair she tripped, recovering herself only by the arm he
flung out to catch her.
"I was coming!" she gasped incoherently. "I would have come before, but
the stairs were dark--so dark, and I was frightened!"
"There is nothing to frighten you," he said gravely.
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