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.
"I can't help it!" she wailed like a child. "Oh, Piet--Piet, be kind to me--just this once--if you can! I--I'm terrified!"
She could not tell him. But in a vague fashion his arm comforted her; and that also was beyond explanation.
"You will be," she said, shivering, "when I have told you my decision."
He moved, and very gently set her free. There was a chair by the table from which he had evidently just risen. He turned to it and sat down, watching her under his hand.
She shook her head. Her agony of fear was passing, but still she could not tell him yet.
He waited silently, his face so shaded by his hand that she could not read its expression.
"Why don't you answer me?" he said at last.
"You leave the decision to me?" he questioned.
He straightened himself slowly, without rising.
"My decision is made," he said. "Give me your hand; not that one--the left."
She obeyed him trembling. He had taken something from his pocket. With a start she saw what it was.
But he had his way, for he would not suffer her resistance to thwart him. Very gravely and resolutely he slipped a gold ring on to her finger.
"And you will give me your word to keep it there," he said, looking up at her.
Her lips were quivering; she could not speak.
"Never mind," he said; "I can trust you."
He released her hand with the words, and there followed a brief silence while Nan stood struggling vainly for self-control.
Failing at length, she sank suddenly down upon her knees at the table hiding her face and crying as if her heart would break.
"My dear Anne!" he said. And then in a different tone, his hand upon her bowed head: "What is it child? Don't cry, don't cry! Is it so hard for you to be my wife?"
She could not answer him. His kindness was so strange to her. She could only sob under that gentle, comforting hand.