The Confession

Through the single unglazed window Beth Norvell saw him coming, and
clutched at the casing, trembling violently, half inclined to turn and
fly. This was the moment she had so greatly dreaded, yet the moment
she could not avoid unless she failed to do her duty to this man. In
another instant the battle had been fought and won, the die cast. She
turned hastily toward her unconscious companion, grasping her arm.

"Mr. Winston is coming, Mercedes; I--I must see him this time alone."

The Mexican's great black eyes flashed up wonderingly into the flushed
face bending over her, marking the heightened color, the visible
embarrassment. She sprang erect, her quick glance through the window
revealing the figure of the engineer striding swiftly toward them.

"Oh, si, señorita; dat iss all right. I go see Mike; he more fun as
dose vat make lofe."

There was a flutter of skirts and sudden vanishment, even as Miss
Norvell's ears caught the sound of a low rap on the outer door. She
stood breathing heavily, her hands clasped upon her breast, until the
knock had been repeated twice. Her voice utterly failing her, she
pressed the latch, stepping backward to permit his entrance. The first
swift, inquiring glance into his face frightened her into an impulsive
explanation.

"I was afraid I arrived here too late to be of any service. It seems,
however, you did not even need me."

He grasped the hand which, half unconsciously, she had extended toward
him; he was startled by its unresponsive coldness, striving vainly to
perceive the truth hidden away beneath her lowered lids.