But indeed her thoughts were not very far away: only one
storey below, in this same house, in the dining-room where sat
Chauvelin still on the watch. Had he failed? For one instant that
possibility rose before as a hope--the hope that the Scarlet Pimpernel
had been warned by Sir Andrew, and that Chauvelin's trap had failed to
catch his bird; but that hope soon gave way to fear. Had he failed?
But then--Armand!
Lord Fancourt had given up talking since he found that he had
no listener. He wanted an opportunity for slipping away; for sitting
opposite to a lady, however fair, who is evidently not heeding the
most vigorous efforts made for her entertainment, is not exhilarating,
even to a Cabinet Minister.
"Shall I find out if your ladyship's coach is ready," he said
at last, tentatively.
"Oh, thank you. . .thank you. . .if you would be so kind. . .I
fear I am but sorry company. . .but I am really tired. . .and,
perhaps, would be best alone.
But Lord Fancourt went, and still Chauvelin did not come. Oh!
what had happened? She felt Armand's fate trembling in the
balance. . .she feared--now with a deadly fear that Chauvelin HAD
failed, and that the mysterious Scarlet Pimpernel had proved elusive
once more; then she knew that she need hope for no pity, no mercy,
from him.
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