"I ought to have sent up my name, I know," he said, "but I couldn't bear to wait.I just saw your name on the register and--you WILL forgive me, won't you?--I ran to you at once.I know you won't have the heart to send me away!"She stood where she had halted, her arms behind her, looking him fixedly in the face.He had made a movement to advance, and offer his hand in greeting, but her posture checked the impulse.His courage began to falter under her inspection.
"Must I really go down again?" he pleaded."It's a crushing penalty to suffer for such little indiscretion.
I was so excited to find you were here--I never stopped to think.Don't send me away; please don't!"Celia raised her head."Well, shut the door, then,"she said, "since you are so anxious to stay.You would have done much better, though, very much better indeed, to have taken the hint and gone away.""Will you shake hands with me, Celia?" he asked softly, as he came near her.
"Sit there, please!" she made answer, indicating a chair in the middle of the room.He obeyed her, but to his surprise, instead of seating herself as well, she began walking up and down the length of the floor again.
After a turn or two she stopped in front of him, and looked him full in the eye.The light from the windows was on her countenance now, and its revelations vaguely troubled him.
It was a Celia he had never seen before who confronted him.
"I am much occupied by other matters," she said, speaking with cold impassivity, "but still I find myself curious to know just what limits you set to your dishonesty."Theron stared up at her.His lips quivered, but no speech came to them.If this was all merely fond playfulness, it was being carried to a heart-aching point.
"I saw you hiding about in the depot at home last evening,"she went on."You come up here, pretending to have discovered me by accident, but I saw you following me from the Grand Central this morning.""Yes, I did both these things," said Theron, boldly.
A fine bravery tingled in his veins all at once.