“What shall we do now?” said Frank. “We have no right to be eavesdroppers.”
“But we must be, right or none.” And Amyas held him down firmly by the arm.
“But whither are you going, then, my dear madam?” they heard Eustace say in a wheedling tone. “Can you wonder if such strange conduct should cause at least sorrow to your admirable and faithful husband?”
“Husband!” whispered Frank faintly to Amyas. “Thank God, thank God! I am content. Let us go.”
But to go was impossible; for, as fate would have it, the two had stopped just opposite them.
“The inestimable Senor Don Guzman—” began Eustace again.
“What do you mean by praising him to me in this fulsome way, sir? Do you suppose that I do not know his virtues better than you?”
“If you do, madam” (this was spoken in a harder tone), “it were wise for you to try them less severely, than by wandering down towards the beach on the very night that you know his most deadly enemies are lying in wait to slay him, plunder his house, and most probably to carry you off from him.”
“Carry me off? I will die first!”
“Who can prove that to him? Appearances are at least against you.”