Now I come to you. . .with a half-broken heart. . .and. . .
and. . ."
"I pray you, Madame," he said, whilst his voice shook almost
as much as hers, "in what way can I serve you?"
"Percy!--Armand is in deadly danger. A letter of his. . .
rash, impetuous, as were all his actions, and written to Sir Andrew
Ffoulkes, has fallen into the hands of a fanatic. Armand is
hopelessly compromised. . .to-morrow, perhaps he will be arrested. . .
after that the guillotine. . .unless. . .oh! it is horrible!". . .
she said, with a sudden wail of anguish, as all the events of the past
night came rushing back to her mind, "horrible!. . .and you do not
understand. . .you cannot. . .and I have no one to whom I can
turn. . .for help. . .or even for sympathy. . ."
Tears now refused to be held back. All her trouble, her
struggles, the awful uncertainty of Armand's fate overwhelmed her.
She tottered, ready to fall, and leaning against the tone balustrade,
she buried her face in her hands and sobbed bitterly.
At first mention of Armand St. Just's name and of the peril in
which he stood, Sir Percy's face had become a shade more pale; and the
look of determination and obstinacy appeared more marked than ever
between his eyes.
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