“That message was delivered?”
“It was.”
“Something more must have been said!”
“Hardly a word; my man was proceeding to business, when this maniac sprang upon him and flung him out of the cell.”
Claire shook her head.
“I cannot think that’s all that passed,” said she.
“It was, though; you ask the warders. There were three of them outside the open door, and they’ve put him in a strait-waistcoat for it, at any rate! So you see how he has made use of the chance I gave him. Don’t ask me to give him another, that’s all.”
“No, no,” said Claire, sadly; “it was only too noble of you to give him one at all, and I shall never, never, never forget all this—your forgiveness— everything! Papa, dear, you may not have me with you very long; how can one go on living after such a thing? I loved him, and I long to die. But until I do, I promise one thing. I may deceive others, but never again will I deceive or disobey my own dear father!”
She spoke with the sad fortitude of sheer despair; and she left Nicholas Harding in an icy exhalation, with one tingling spot, where she had stooped and kissed his face.
Claire had hardly reached her room, when there was a knock at the door, and in came Hannah with a neat sealed packet.
“Oh, please, miss, Mr. Daintree said I was to give you this.”
“Mr. Daintree!”
She had seen him during the day; then what could he have to say to her which would not bear plain verbal
