“Of me, poor child?” cried Tony, losing his head.
“Yes, and how to save you—for I can save you! But every moment counts—and yet what I have to say is so dreadful.”
“Nothing from your lips could seem dreadful.”
“Ah, if he had had your way of speaking!”
“Well, now at least you are free of him,” said Tony, a little wildly; but at this she stood up and bent a grave look on him.
“No, I am not free,” she said; “but you are, if you will do as I tell you.”
Tony, at this, felt a sudden dizziness; as though, from a mad flight through clouds and darkness, he had dropped to safety again, and the fall had stunned him.
“What am I to do?” he said.
“Look away from me, or I can never tell you.”
He thought at first that this was a jest, but her eyes commanded him, and reluctantly he walked away and leaned in the embrasure of the window. She stood in the middle of the room, and as soon as his back was turned she began to speak in a quick monotonous voice, as though she were reciting a lesson.