"I send you then," she said. "And now walk with me down the hill and tell
me what you'll say at Manchester."
That night, before she went to bed, she wrote to Weston Marchmont;
"Dear Friend,--I will not wait to see you again. I can't do what you
wish. Everything else I could do for you, and everything else that
you wish I wish for you. But I can't do that."
Alas for the renewed peace of Lady Richard's mind, alas for the returning
quiet of Dick Benyon's conscience! Quisante made his preparations for
going with his eyes all agleam, murmuring again and again, "She sends me;
she shall see what I'm worth." For one of his great moments had come in
the nick of time and done a work that he himself, low as he might now and
again fall, could hardly quite undo.
CHAPTER VII.
ADVICE FROM AUNT MARIA.
The two Cabinet Ministers brought back from Manchester different accounts
of Quisante's speech and its effects. One said it was frothy rhetoric
heard in puzzled lethargy, the other that it was genuine eloquence
received with the hush of profound attention, but hailed at the end with
rapturous enthusiasm.
Pages:
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136