“It is all right, Miss McDonald,” he murmured hastily, arising.  “There is nothing to fear.”

“You are here—­alone?”

“Yes,” smiling in memory.  “There were occupants when I first arrived, but they were persuaded to depart.  I had a suspicion you might prefer it that way.”

“Yes,” puzzled by his manner, yet softly pushing the door back so as to exclude the light.  “I can see better now.  Are—­are you sure no one can overhear?  I have something to tell you—­something important.”

“There is no one else here, yet some one might stumble into this room.  It is not private, you know.  We shall be safer on the porch outside.  Will you take my hand, and let me guide you?”

She did so unhesitatingly, but her fingers were cold, and he could feel the twitching of her nerves.

“You are frightened—­not of me, surely?”

“Oh, no!” a slight catch in her voice, “but I am running such a risk venturing here.  I—­I had to pretend a sick-headache to get away.  You must not condemn me until you hear why I came.”

“I condemn?  Hardly, Miss McDonald.  I am merely a soldier receiving orders; ‘mine not to question why.’  Here is the window; now sit down on this bench.  I ’ll keep guard, and listen.”  His voice sank lower, a little touch of tenderness in it impossible to disguise.  “Are you in trouble?  Is it something I can aid you to overcome?”

She did not answer at once but rested her chin in one hand, and turned her eyes away.  Her breath came swiftly, as though she had not yet recovered from fright, and her face in the dim light looked white and drawn.

“Yes, you can,” she began slowly, “I am sure you can.  I—­I came to you because there was no one else in whom I felt the same confidence.  I know that sounds strange, but I cannot explain—­only it seems natural to trust some people even when you do not know them very well.  I do not suppose I know you very well; just those few hours we were together, but—­somehow I think you are true.”

“I certainly hope so,” he put in earnestly.  “I couldn’t very well help being—­with you.”

“I believe that,” and she lifted her eyes to his face.

“Yet I do not wish you to think me bold, or—­or indiscreet.  You do not think so, do you?”

“That idea has never once occurred to me, Miss McDonald.  I am only too glad to be of service.”

“It is good of you to say that; you see, there was no one else.”

“Your father?” he suggested.

“But that is the very trouble,” she insisted, rejoicing that he had thus unconsciously opened the way to her confession.  “It is because my father is involved, is completely in her toils, that I am compelled to appeal to you.  He will not listen to a word against her.”

“Her?  You refer to Mrs. Dupont?”

“Of course; why, I hadn’t mentioned her name!  How did you guess?”