"It is like you," he said simply.
She shook her head.
"I--I did not know you were here."
"I am not supposed to be," he answered, kissing his daughter.
Alicia hastily said good-bye, Medland not trying to detain her. But he signed to Daisy to stay in the room and escorted Alicia down-stairs.
At the hall door he kept her, laying his hand on the door.
"Yes, that was very kind. Poor child! She wants friends."
"I can do very little--I----"
"Yes, I know. And you are going?"
"Yes, in three weeks."
He was silent for a moment: then he looked in her eyes.
"You know the worst now," he said in a low voice.
"Yes," she murmured, trying to escape his gaze.
"And you still say what you said before?"
"I--I say nothing. I must go."
"Very likely we shall never speak alone again as long as we live--perhaps never at all."
"Isn"t it best?" she murmured.
"Best!" he echoed. "You are happy in it then?"
"I happy! Ah!"
He could not miss the meaning of her tone.
"Most people," he said, "would call me a criminal for what I am going to say--and you a fool if you listen. Alicia, will you face it all and come to me?" and he drew nearer to her. "I know what I ask--but I know too what I have to give."
"Let me go," she gasped, as though his hand were on her.
"Can you do it?" he asked. "I needn"t tell you to think what it means."
"I don"t mind that," she broke out suddenly. "Don"t think it"s that. I would face all that if--if I could----"
"Trust me?"
She bowed her head.
"You can never trust me again?"
"Why make me say it?"
"But it is so?"
Again she bowed her head.
"It is still--horrible?"
He drew back and opened the door, letting in the cool night air.
"Good-bye," he said. "It"s your last word?"
She seemed to sway towards him and away again.
"I shan"t ask again," he went on, still in that calm, low voice. "I shall accept what you say now. You think me--unclean?"
Her silence was answer as she stepped out into the path.
"For the last time!"
"I can"t," she said, with a sob. "You--you know why."
"And yet, if you loved me!"
"Loved you!" she cried. "But no, no, no!" and she turned and disappeared in the gloom.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE DECISION OF THE ORACLE.
"I see from Tomes," observed Eleanor Scaife to the Chief Justice, as he handed her a cup of tea, "that all the elections are on the same day in New Lindsey."
"They are," he answered. "A good thing, don"t you think?"
"But if a man wants to vote in two places?"
"Then it"s kind to prevent him, because if he does it he"s sent to prison."
"Oh! And when do the results appear?"
"Here at Kirton? Oh, any time between nine and midnight, or an hour later. One or two are left over as a rule. They"re published at the Town-hall, and it"s generally rather a lively scene."