“I am weak and helpless,” she cried. “How dare you!”.
Again she strove to sustain herself without his support, but it was a futile effort.
“The Holy Mother of God,” cried Victor, “will bear testimony to my sincerity when I swear to you that you have been as safe in my arms as in those of a mother. Sacred to me is, and ever has been, the protection of female purity and innocence. With a brother’s care you must allow me to guard your precious life until I can restore you, unharmed, into the keeping of those whose blessed right it is to love and protect you.”
“I was bewildered—I knew not what I said. Forgive me,” she pleaded.
“An angel like yourself, mademoiselle, needs not to be forgiven by a sinful mortal like me. Only tell me how I can best serve you.”
The storm which had long been in gathering, now burst upon them. The rocky cliffs protected them in some degree from the violence of the wind, but from the rain there was no escape.
“It is your right,” said Vivienne, “to know by what strange chance I was brought to this pass.”
“Do not try to tell me now,” cried Victor. “I desire to hear nothing—I will hear nothing until I see you in a place of safety. Your feet are exposed to the wet ground, and even that thick cloak will soon be drenched with rain. Shall you be afraid to remain here alone until I can go back to the house for dry clothing?”
“I shall not be afraid to remain alone,” said Vivienne, “but if others should come, I might be afraid of them.” As she said this, she smiled faintly. “But you do not think of yourself. The coat which you gave me to stand upon must be wet through by this time.”
“Oh, that is nothing,” said Victor, as he picked up the garment and put it on. “It can hold only so much water, and it will be in no worse condition by the time I reach your home.”