No! there was no room for any fond delusions! Percy, the
husband whom she loved with all the ardour which her admiration for
his bravery had kindled, was in immediate, deadly peril, through her
hand. She had betrayed him to his enemy--unwittingly `tis true--but
she HAD betrayed him, and if Chauvelin succeeded in trapping him,
who so far was unaware of his danger, then his death would be at her
door. His death! when with her very heart's blood, she would have
defended him and given willingly her life for his.
She had ordered her coach to drive her to the "Crown" inn;
once there, she told her coachman to give the horses food and rest.
Then she ordered a chair, and had herself carried to the house in Pall
Mall where Sir Andrew Ffoulkes lived.
Among all Percy's friends who were enrolled under his daring
banner, she felt that she would prefer to confide in Sir Andrew
Ffoulkes. He had always been her friend, and now his love for little
Suzanne had brought him closer to her still. Had he been away from
home, gone on the mad errand with Percy, perhaps, then she would have
called on Lord Hastings or Lord Tony--for she wanted the help of one
of these young men, or she would indeed be powerless to save her
husband.
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