As to Patience herself, at first a great, an overwhelming joy and pride had seized her at the thought that he was near her now, that he had not deserted her in the hour of her greatest need, that once again he had interposed his magnetic, powerful personality between her and the danger which threatened her and Philip.
It was only when the Sergeant's momentous words, "I arrest you in the name of the King!" rang out clearly and decisively above the loud tumult which was beating in her heart, that she became aware of the deadly peril which threatened the man she loved.
True, he had come once more between her and danger, but once again he had done it at risk of his life, and was like at last to lay it down for her.
She had been standing a little to one side, turning, as all had done, toward the elegant, foppish figure in the fine clothes and dainty ruffles of lace, but now she stepped forward with mad, unreasoning impulse, thrusting herself between him and the Sergeant, and trying to shield him behind the folds of her cloak.
"No! no! no! no!" she said excitedly. "Sergeant, 'tis all a mistake! ... I swear..."
But already Jack Bathurst had bent forward, and had contrived to whisper, unheard by all save her,—
"Hush—sh—your brother ... remember his danger..."
"Your pardon, lady," said the Sergeant, seeing that she paused, irresolute, not knowing what to do in face of this terrible alternative which was confronting her. "Your pardon, lady, but this gentleman is Philip, Earl of Stretton, is he not?"
"For your brother's sake," whispered Bathurst once more.
"No ... yes ... Oh! my God!" murmured Patience, in the agony of this appalling misery.