His eagerness had carried him away. He stepped up close to the trembling girl and took her unresisting hand and held it firmly in his own warm, strong one.
With parted lips and with wide eyes Helène had taken in every word of his passionate pleading. This man would keep his word. She was satisfied of that now. And her father had written to her: “Obey implicitly and follow Mr. Morton’s instructions absolutely.” He must be right.
Trembling she groped for the little cross hanging upon her breast. God would not let the dear Princess perish—and she—? Well, she would try again—she would convince her mistress!
“Yes, Mr. Morton, yes! I will do what I can. I promise everything. You are right—we must act at once! But, oh, what will happen?”
She was trembling all over, fearful of the picture her fancy had conjured up.
Morton, still holding her hand, gently led the girl to her seat.
“Please, Comtesse, be calm and take heart. Nothing at all will happen. We shall get away and you will be safe and happy in a few hours. Do not fear. I swear to you that we shall bring you safely across the border.”
Helène grew calmer. She felt her native energy coming back, and with a blush she gently withdrew her hand from Morton’s grasp.
“Mr. Morton, I want to thank you for your goodness and your forbearance. You have been more than kind. I promise to be at the gate at six; with the Princess if I can, and as I pray I may be—alone, if I cannot.”
John had won. Rising and bowing with reverence before the beautiful young woman: