“My recital will be short, my lord, but in the name of Heaven do not tremble so.”
“It is impatience, Parry. Come, what did the general say to you?”
“At first the general would not receive me.”
“He took you for a spy?”
“Yes, my lord, but I wrote him a letter.”
“Well?”
“He read it, and received me, my lord.”
“Did that letter thoroughly explain my position and my views?”
“Oh, yes!” said Parry, with a sad smile; “it painted your very thoughts faithfully.”
“Well—then, Parry?”